


Dead Like Kurt

by countingcrow16



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dead Like Me, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 82,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcrow16/pseuds/countingcrow16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 year old Kurt Hummel had his whole life ahead of him before a freak accident sets him on a new path. Based on the television series Dead Like Me. All characters Glee or original.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: This fic is based on Dead Like Me, but all characters are either Glee or original. I do not own Glee or Dead Like Me or any characters contained therein.
> 
> One more point of note, in this story, Sue Sylvester is not the coach of the Cheerios and is in no way associated with McKinley. She plays another major role in the story. Enjoy!

Kurt Hummel tapped his pencil impatiently against his history notebook. He could almost hear the ticking of the clock on the wall above Mr. Treadaway as it slowly marched toward three fifteen. He couldn't quite figure out if he was anxious for the bell to ring, or if he was dreading it. He wasn't looking forward to going home and talking with his dad, that's for sure, but he found himself counting down the minutes just the same. A tap on Kurt's shoulder broke him out of his uneasy watch and he turned his head slightly to see the note being handed to him over his right shoulder by Jennie Trotsky. He smiled as he recognized his own name written in Blaine Anderson's tiny, slanted script. Keeping one eye on Mr. Treadaway, who had already issued him one demerit this week for texting in class, Kurt slowly unfolded the paper.

_Kurt,_

_Please don't do this on my behalf. I wish I hadn't even told you about the open mic thing tomorrow night. I know how important Friday dinners are to your family and I don't want to mess that up in any way. In fact, I'm telling you not to come. So that's it._

Kurt smirked at Blaine's attempt to make this decision for him. Didn't he know better by this point in their relationship? He shook his head as he scribbled out his reply.

_Blaine, dear, you know it doesn't work that way. When I make up my mind, is it really a good use of your time and energy trying to change it back? Now, once I explain everything to my dad, I'm sure he'll understand. It'll be fine, so stop freaking out. I love you._

_Who am I trying to convince, me or him?_ Kurt thought to himself as he folded the paper back up and surreptitiously reached back and placed the note back on Jennie's desk. He chanced a glance backward to her and she rolled her eyes as she past the note back to Blaine sitting behind her. Kurt cocked his head and smiled slightly at her as if to say sorry, but thank you. She offered a small lopsided smile in return and Kurt returned his attention to the clock which was dangerously close to that magical time. Only about thirty seconds passed before the folded up note landed on his desk again. He unfolded it and read.

_Kurt…_ (Kurt could almost hear Blaine's resigned sigh bleeding into the paper), _I love you too_.

Kurt only had a couple of seconds to revel in his victory before the shrill ringing of the bell startled him into getting up with the rest of his classmates and gathering his belongings.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Blaine said, clapping his hand onto Kurt's shoulder. Kurt turned toward his boyfriend, shoving the note into his pocket, unable to hide the accomplished look on his face.

"Start believing, Blaine." Kurt replied as they headed out into the hallway toward their row of lockers. "You knew what you were signing up for when you told me you had been looking for me forever."

"I just don't want to come in between you and your family tradition. The open mic night is so not a big deal, and I never would have said anything if I had realized that April 6th was a Friday."

Kurt sighed and put his hands on Blaine's shoulders, squaring the other boy and dipping his head slightly to stare into his adorable boyfriends worried eyes. "Blaine listen, I know that the last time I tried to skip out on a Friday night dinner it didn't turn out that well. But things are different now, Dad's got Carol and Finn and I guarantee they won't ever miss me."

Blaine leaned in until his forehead was resting on Kurt's for a moment before pulling away and turning the dial on his lock. "Fine, but promise me that you will call me tonight after you've talked to Burt. I don't want to go to bed without knowing whether or not he's going to kill me next time he sees me."

"Don't be silly," Kurt scoffed. "He would never be mad at you. He knows both of us well enough to be able to figure out who made the decision on this one." He gave Blaine a chaste kiss on the cheek and headed out to the senior parking lot. As he climbed into his car, Kurt steeled himself mentally before turning the key in the ignition and started driving to Hummel Tire and Lube.

\--------------------------------------------

"This is going to be fun." Kurt muttered to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of his father's business. He had sent a text message to his dad during lunch letting him know that he was stopping by after school to have a chat. Sure enough, when he pushed open the customer entrance door to the garage, he saw his dad sitting in the tiny office on the opposite wall. Kurt pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin as he sauntered as nonchalantly as possible over to where his dad was sitting.

"Kurt," Burt acknowledge his son with a hint of suspicion in his voice. The only times Kurt ever announced that he was stopping by for a chat was when he wanted money or needed to break some bad news to him. "How was school?"

"Fine dad, listen, there's an open mic night at the Lima Bean tomorrow and Blaine's performing and I'm going to go support him."

Kurt drew in a shaky breath. He hadn't meant to rush through it like that, but it was like pulling off a bandaid. The sooner it was out in the open, the sooner he could deal with the fallout.

"Tomorrow is Friday."

"I'm aware, Dad, but—"

"No buts, Kurt. Tomorrow is Friday and that means Friday night dinner. No exceptions."

"Dad, it's just one Friday. Besides, Carol and Finn will be there."

"Are you a part of this family?"

"Of course I am." Kurt was losing this battle and he knew it.

"Then you better be there." Burt started stacking the paper invoices on his desk with an air of finality. Kurt could feel the heat rising up his neck and start to color his cheeks. This was not going as planned.

"What is that supposed to mean? If I'm not there, I'm out of the family?" Kurt jumped out of his seat and put some distance between himself and the desk. He knew that this wasn't what Burt meant, but once Kurt Hummel got himself worked up, there was no turning back.

"Don't be dramatic, Kurt. You know good and well that my love for you is unconditional. I just wish you could get it through your head that the world doesn't revolve around you. Now you will be at that dinner tomorrow night if it's the last thing you do, you hear me?" Burt stared his son right in the eye and waited for Kurt to relent. A stare down between the two stubborn Hummels was not uncommon, and Burt was prepared to sit there all night and into Friday if he had to. Kurt had no intention of making him wait that long. It was rare, but Kurt knew a lost cause when he saw it. Not that it made him any less angry.

Kurt finally broke eye contact as tears started to burn the brim of his bottom eye lids. He was angry. Deep down he knew his father was right and he silently cursed himself for making such a fuss over the weekly ritual two times in as many years. He couldn't let Burt know he'd won that easy, though. He shot one final look at his father before stalking out of the office and heading toward the front door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Burt shouted after him. "Kurt!" But the front door had swung shut and Burt assumed that Kurt hadn't heard him. He watched as his son climbed into his SUV and drove off in the opposite direction from home.

"Kid just needs to let off some steam." Burt muttered to himself as he grabbed a clip board and headed back to work on a midsize with misaligned brake pads. He knew his son would come around and by tomorrow, he may even be ready to apologize for how he acted toward his dad. Burt chuckled at the image in his head of Kurt coming to him tomorrow, wringing his hands and asking for forgiveness for his behavior. Kurt may be dramatic, but he was just as much predictable. He'd come around, Burt reassured himself.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Kurt's hands were shaking hard as he made a left turn out of the parking lot. He gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could to try to settle them, but the tremors just moved to his shoulders instead. It had been a while since he had gotten himself this worked up over something. He glanced into his rearview mirror, half expecting Burt to be following him. Kurt had heard his father yell out after him as he stomped out of the shop, but he pretended he hadn't. He felt slightly guilty for not acknowledging Burt when he asked him where he was off too, but he had been too angry and flustered and anything he would have said to his dad at that point would have been mean and Kurt would have regretted saying it immediately. Fights between the two were rare, but Kurt had made that mistake before.

As he rolled to a stop at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, Kurt noticed the glowing green light on his cell phone, which he had thrown on the passenger seat earlier. He reached over and picked it up. There was a missed call from Blaine and then a text message from him as well.

_Everything okay?_

_Decidedly not_ , Kurt thought to himself and started to tap out a message.

_No, I-_ Kurt dropped the phone when the car behind him laid on the horn. The light was green and Kurt hadn't been paying attention. He sheepishly raised his hand to the driver behind him as he continued on through the intersection. He was a pretty impatient driver himself, so he felt bad for inconveniencing the other driver. Kurt decided to just get to his destination and then worry about how he was going to break the news to Blaine. By this point he was only about five minutes away from the park anyway.

Whenever he was upset about something, Kurt found himself making his way to the nature trail that looped around Bridgemill Park and Baseball Complex. The gentle hills and thick canopy of tree limbs covering certain areas of the path had a soothing effect on him. The park was also a source of a lot of good memories for Kurt. He could remember his first tee-ball game when he was five and how proud his mom and dad had been when he hit the ball straight through the first baseman's legs and made it all the way to third base without stopping. Kurt laughed to himself as he remembered how excited he had been for remembering which direction to run after hitting the ball. Kurt loved playing tee-ball-it had been the first and only sport he ever played, and probably would have continued playing had the other boys not noticed something different about Kurt and begun mercilessly teasing him about it. The best part about playing, though, wasn't hitting the ball or fielding a grounder, it was looking over to the bleachers and seeing the look of pride on his father's face. He never felt like his dad was disappointed in him for who he was, but there was no denying that when Kurt did "boy" things, his father puffed out his chest a little more and made sure that those around him knew that was "his boy".

Kurt was still lost in thought as he put his car in park and hopped out, sliding his cell phone into his pocket and closing the door. He forgot about finishing his text to Blaine as he conjured up another happy memory, this one about his mom teaching him about the different trees and bushes along the nature path. Kurt always loved it when his mom would let him bring his crayons and paper on the path with them so he could make rubbings of different leaves and tree bark. She would always make a big deal about them and call Kurt her little Monet as she displayed them on the refrigerator.

There was shouting coming from the other side of the park. Kurt looked up from the path and saw the bright lights that began springing up around one of the diamonds. It looked like a game was starting up. It wasn't tee-ball though, this time. The players were much older. Maybe a church league? Kurt thought to himself. Maybe he would stop over and watch for a few minutes. He didn't care too much for watching sports on television, but there was something appealing to him about watching baseball live, and that may or may not have had something to do with Kurt's slight attraction to men in uniforms.

Kurt was almost over to the baseball diamond when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. _Shoot_ , he thought, remembering his half-finished text to Blaine. He pulled the phone out and continued walking. It was another text from Blaine.

_You're not still talking with your dad are you? I'm starting to worry..._

Kurt hated that he had made Blaine worry and tapped out a quick message to him.

_Nothing to worry about. Talk didn't go as planned and I went to the park to go clear my head. I'll call you in a bit._

"Kurt?"

Kurt stopped in his tracks as he heard an unfamiliar voice shout out his name. Ever since things had gotten intense with the Karofsky situation last year, he was slightly more jumpy when he was out alone. He quickly took in his surroundings before turning around. It was dusk, which made him nervous, but he was now walking on the part of the path that was almost parallel with the third base line of the diamond and there were plenty of people shuffling around at the concession stand as well as about two dozen sitting on the bleachers to his left.

"Um, yes?" Kurt answered as he turned around and came face to face with a well-dressed man who looked to be in his early forties.

"I think you dropped this." The man smiled as he handed Kurt a folded up sheet of paper with his name on it. _The note_ , Kurt sighed.

"Oh, thanks," he said, taking the note from the man. "It must have fallen out of my pocket when I took out my phone." Kurt nodded appreciatively to the man and turned back toward the game in progress. Kurt could hear the guy walk up and stand next to him.

"Say, kid, what's your last name?"

Kurt felt the panic start to rise in his chest again, but he batted it down and put on his best bitch face. If this guy was a stalker, Kurt wanted him to know that he was not to be messed with. "Why do you want to know, creep?"

The man chuckled. "Just making conversation, son. You looked familiar, that's all."

Kurt immediately felt embarrassed. This was probably a regular at his dad's shop and he just went and called him a creep. How much more can I mess up today? He thought bashfully.

"It's Hummel."

"Well, Kurt Hummel," the man said as he reached out a hand and cupped Kurt's shoulder. "Enjoy the game." The man's hand trailed slightly down Kurt's arm before falling off and when his hand left his body, Kurt shivered. Something about the man's touch left him feeling slightly uneasy, and not just because a complete stranger had just invaded his personal space. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though.

"HEADS UP!" Kurt's head snapped in the direction of the baritone yell coming from home plate. Kurt just barely saw the ball as it hurdled towards him, but there wasn't nearly enough time to duck out of the way.

And then, for a brief moment, there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Nothing to worry about. Talk didn't go as planned and I went to the park to go clear my head. I'll call you in a bit._

Blaine re-read the text message from Kurt. It had been about five minutes since he received it and he had been contemplating whether or not to call him. Finally, he decided to dial Kurt's number, but the phone rang and rang before going to voice mail. Blaine tried the number again and got the same result. Now he was worried. Sometimes Kurt needed to be left alone for a while after something upsetting happened, but never had he flat out ignored Blaine's calls. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he quickly shoved his feet into a pair of sandals and grabbed his car keys off the bed.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt's hands flew instinctively toward his face and his eyes squeezed shut as he prepared for the impact of the baseball traveling unbelievably fast towards him. After a few seconds with no blinding pain on any area of his body, he slowly lowered his arms and opened his eyes. In front of him he could see everyone, spectators and players alike, staring over in his direction and for a moment, it was like the world had frozen. Then, a middle aged woman sitting on the bleachers screamed, dropping her soda as her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror. That seemed to snap everyone out of their pause. Kurt watched as at least a dozen people came flying in his direction. He turned around, thinking that someone behind him must have been hit by the ball. _Maybe the weird guy who found my note?_ Kurt thought. But when he turned around, the guy was nowhere to be found.

Kurt turned back around just as the mass of people was almost upon him. He was startled for a second, thinking that they were going to plow right over him when, inexplicably, they began falling to their knees by his feet. Kurt glanced down and almost passed out at what he saw.

It was him. His body anyway. Kurt was standing over his own body as the people around him were grabbing his hand and searching his neck for a pulse. Kurt started to stumble backwards, tripping over his feet when he was caught around the shoulders by someone, a woman, who silently began leading him away from the scene.

"What's going on? I don't…" Kurt mumbled almost incoherently. The person leading him took him to a tree on the other side of the path, about 20 yards away from where his body lay. She turned him around and pushed him back slightly so that his back was resting gently on the tree trunk.

"Take a deep breath, kid," the woman spoke. "It's a lot to take in all at once."

"Who are you?" Kurt's eyes darted back and forth between the woman and the scene in front of them. "What's happening? Is that me? Am I—"

"Dead. You're dead." The woman spoke plainly. Kurt stared at her, not quite absorbing what she was saying. She was tall, with short blond hair and spoke with a matter-of-factness that could be interpreted as cold or unfeeling, but for some reason he trusted her and knew, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it, she was telling him the truth. Finally, Kurt found his voice again.

"Dead? But I didn't feel anything."

"That's because Sawyer graciously popped your soul out of your body before that baseball crushed your face in. You're welcome."

I can't be dead! I'm only 18, I haven't done anything wrong!" Kurt's voice reflected his growing panic as it came out even higher than usual.

"It doesn't matter, Porcelain," the woman told him. "Death doesn't discriminate between young and old, good and bad. Today is your day, your time is up and all that crap."

"So, are you like, an angel or something?"

The woman smirked. "Do I look like an angel?"

"Then who are you?" Kurt was growing more confused by the second, but at least talking to the woman was distracting him from watching the chaos around his own body.

"My name is Sue, and I'm a reaper. Our job is to take people's souls from their bodies immediately prior to death, especially important in a violent death such as your own. Sawyer was the reaper who took yours."

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Kurt. "Okay, so can't you just take someone else's soul instead? Someone old and sick? I won't tell anyone, I'll pretend this whole thing never happened."

Sue studied the boy. Through his tears, a faint glimmer of hope shone through. Bargaining was common, and it was amazing who otherwise kind and compassionate people would throw under the bus when it came to their own mortality.

"Sure," She said, with a slight smile. "Why not?"

"Really?"

"No. It doesn't work that way," Sue watched his face fall again and she could almost see all the scenes Kurt was playing through his head. All the things he wished he had done, all the things he was going to miss out on doing and all the people he was leaving behind. He slowly slid down the tree trunk until he was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest. He didn't even seem to notice his shirt catching on the tree bark and slowly riding up his back as he hit the ground. Sue squatted down beside him but decided to remain quiet for the moment, to let everything sink in for the boy. There would be more questions, of course, but they had nothing but time now.

They sat and watched as an ambulance barreled down to the crowd of people. Kurt's breath caught in his throat as he watched the paramedics work on his body for several minutes before strapping it down on a board and load him into the ambulance before driving off.

"What happens if they resuscitate me?" Kurt finally asked. It was his last hold-out.

"They won't," Sue said almost gently. "You were dead on impact. Besides, we wouldn't have taken your soul if you could have been brought back. There are no mistakes."

Kurt bent his head down and began quietly weeping. A lot of people (well, unpeople, really) thought Sue was heartless, but that was mostly a façade. Just because you're no longer living, it doesn't mean you don't have feelings and emotions. Even the undead have to guard their hearts, and being somewhat distant and gruff was Sue's preferred method. She couldn't help but feel a pang in her gut for the boy. He was young and he did seem like a good kid, but like she had explained to him earlier and like she had to explain to herself again, death doesn't care about those things. When your time is up, it's up.

"Listen, Porcelain," Sue place a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I know what might cheer you up. Come with me."

Kurt accepted Sue's outstretched hand as she helped him up and they began walking toward the entrance of the park.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine was almost to Bridgemill Park when he, along with the other drivers on the road, had to pull over for an ambulance passing in the other direction. His feeling of unease intensified, though he tried to remind himself that every time he saw an ambulance he panicked for a few moments, wondering if the person inside was someone he knew and loved. _It never has been,_ Blaine reassured himself. He pulled into the first parking lot and almost turned off his car when he noticed a great deal of commotion at the opposite end of the park. It looked like a game had been going on at one of the diamonds, but there were several police cars with lights still shining parked around the field as well. Blaine decided to drive down to the lot closer to the crowd to try to get an idea of what was going on. As he drove, he scanned the walking path that Kurt liked to use when he came down here. _He shouldn't be out walking this late,_ Blaine thought, with the tiniest hint of anger. _It's getting dark and he might as well be asking for trouble._

By the time he parked again, it looked like the crowd was starting to thin out. People were heading back to their cars and Blaine could tell by the looks on some of their faces that something terrible must have happened. Most of the women and even some of the men were crying, and those who weren't had a kind of dazed look about them.

"Excuse me," Blaine decided to ask someone what was going on. He stopped a younger couple who appeared to have parked next to him. The guy was helping the girl into the passenger seat when Blaine approached him. "What's going on here?"

"There was an accident." The man replied after gently shutting the passenger door. "Someone hit a line drive foul and it hit a kid who was watching straight in the face. The ambulance came and got him, but to be honest, I don't think there's any hope. The kid went down immediately and I don't think they were able to resuscitate him before they loaded him up."

"Wh-what did he look like? The kid?" All kinds of selfish thoughts popped into Blaine's head. _Say he was fat or short or an eight year-old._ Blaine's slight feeling of guilt was tampered down by his overwhelming feeling of fear. He would deal with the guilt later, after this guy confirmed that it was not Kurt that was involved in the accident.

"I don't know, 5'9", 5'10" maybe?" The man ventured. Blaine's heart dropped with every word. "Slender, well-dressed. Definitely not anything most people would wear to watch a baseball game. Listen, I've got to get my wife home, we were sitting pretty close to the accident and I think she needs some rest before she loses it any more than she already has."

The man walked over to the driver's side door and got in. Blaine was frozen to the spot as he watched the car drive off. He had no idea how much time had passed when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He let out a sigh of relief as he thought to himself that it was finally Kurt calling him back. He didn't even look at the caller I.D. as he answered.

"Kurt, finally, I-"

"Blaine?" The voice sounded small, afraid. Blaine recognized it, even though it had little resemblance to the confident, jovial tone Blaine usually expected to hear from Finn.

"Finn, have you heard from Kurt? I've been trying to get a hold of him, because he said he was going to the park and then he wouldn't answer his phone and now I'm at the park and there's been some kind of accident and I still can't find him and-"

"Blaine, can you just come over? Please?" Finn finally cut him off. He'd meant to do it sooner, but he didn't really know what he was doing. Finn may be bigger than all the other kids in New Directions and one of the two self-proclaimed leaders, but at the end of the day, he was still a scared little boy, dealing with something much bigger than him.

A thousand questions raced through Blaine's head, but somehow, Blaine knew he didn't want to hear the answers to them over the phone.

"Be right there."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt was in a daze. He and Sue were standing on the roof of Lima Medical Center, but he could hardly remember how they got there. Sue led him over to a vaulted skylight near the center of the roof and motioned downward.

"Look familiar?" She asked. At first, Kurt couldn't quite see what was going on. There was a woman standing over a table and then-

"Is that me?" Kurt already knew the answer. He recognized his shoes lying in a bin next to the table, and as the woman stepped away for a moment, he was somewhat embarrassed to find that his body was naked. Presumably completely naked, but thankfully a sheet covered his lower half. Not that she wouldn't eventually see it, but it gave Kurt some small comfort that even in death, the woman respected his body enough not to leave it completely uncovered.

"Huh," Kurt muttered. "Who would have thought the day would come when a woman sees Kurt Hummel naked."

"How do you feel?" Sue asked him.

"I don't know, it's kind of weird, but I feel a little bit better. It's like…" Kurt struggled to find the right words.

"It's kind of like making a giant bowl of homemade peach cobbler and dropping it on the floor," Sue explained. "No matter how good it might have been, you just don't want it anymore."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Kurt watched with a gross fascination as the woman examined his face where the baseball had made impact. Years of careful, almost religious skin care didn't amount to anything after all. He finally tore his eyes away from the scene and turned to Sue.

"So what next? Do I go to Heaven or something?"

"You? Heaven? No." Sue chuckled, before seeing the horrified look on Kurt's face. "Listen, kid, you have to stick around at least until your body is laid to rest." Sue knew she would eventually have to explain Kurt's fate to him, but he seemed to be handling all this much better when delivered in small, digestible chunks.

Kurt scoffed. "Obviously I'm dead, how much more proof do I need?"

"It's not about proof. You need to say a proper goodbye to this life before you move on to the next."

"So what, am I going to be reincarnated or something?"

Sue fought the urge to roll her eyes. As much as she liked this kid, he was starting to grate on her nerves a bit. "Why don't we worry about things one at a time, okay?" And with that, she led him over to the stairwell and they made their way down and out to the street.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was five days after his death, and Kurt found himself sitting on his living room couch. He watched as people paced around him, eating finger foods and conversing in hushed tones. Over near the front door, Burt Hummel was accepting people with handshakes or hugs as they walked inside. On the opposite end of the room, his wife Carole was picking up empty glasses and plates, straightening chairs and occasionally stopping to bring a trembling hand to her face to wipe her eyes.

Over the last few days, Kurt had adjusted to being dead, as best one could. But seeing his parents like this was heartbreaking. Both of them looked so lost now, even more so than at his funeral service just an hour prior. It was almost as if they could pretend this wasn't happening, pretend that when they came home from the cemetery Kurt would be there waiting for them. Having all these people in their home, all looking so sad and sympathetic made everything so real.

Kurt was broken from his thoughts when Sue plopped down on the couch next to him with a plate laden with different appetizers.

"So what did you think about your funeral, Porcelain?" She asked as she stuffed a cocktail weenie in her mouth.

"It was nice," he answered. "I would have thrown in a few musical numbers, maybe some sequins, but it's not like I had the whole thing planned out. I'm not Rachel Berry."

"Feeling any closure?" Kurt could barely understand her over her chewing.

"I guess," he studied her for a moment. "So, people can see you, because I saw you shake hands with my dad and obviously you can eat, but I'm invisible and I haven't even been hungry since 5th period on Thursday? How does that work?"

"Well Kurt, you see," Sue paused for a minute to wipe her mouth. "The difference between you and me is that I'm undead and you're just plain dead. Therefore, I can reap, excuse the pun, the benefits of the living."

"Which brings me back to my original question. Shouldn't I be moving on or something?"

Sue sighed. The time had come to tell him the truth. She turned to place her nearly empty plate on the end table and then turned her focus back to Kurt.

"Do you remember me telling you about the guy who reaped your soul?"

"Yeah, I think you said his name was Shaun or something."

"Sawyer, and he was a complete jerk. Couldn't stand him, the man wore so much grease in his hair you would have thought he was part owner of a rendering plant. It was so shiny that—"

"Sue," Kurt cut her off. "What's the point?"

"The point is, you were Sawyer's last reaping. Each grim reaper has an undisclosed number of souls to reap before they are able to move on to the next life. No one knows how many it takes, and everyone has a different number. When Sawyer reaped your soul, he moved on and you took his place."

They were both silent for a moment while Kurt let this new information sink in.

"So I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck here and I have to take people's souls before they die?" Kurt felt himself begin to panic a bit again. His moods had fluctuated quite a bit over the last few days, but they were slowly starting to level out. Kurt took a deep breath to try to calm himself. "What if I can't do it? I don't know if I'm cut out for this line of work."

"It takes practice. I'm going to assign you a mentor of sorts from our division for your first few reapings until you learn the ropes."

"Division? We have a division?" Kurt was growing more confused by the moment.

"External influence, that's our division." Sue lifted her hand and began ticking off the subcategories within the division. "It includes accidents, suicide, murders and so on."

Kurt was about to ask more when he spotted him across the room. Blaine. He was sitting on the staircase, elbows on his knees and hands resting on his face. He looked exhausted, like he had been crying non-stop for days. Kurt had purposely avoided looking at him at the funeral service, during which Kurt had stayed several yards away from the action. Mingling in with the crowd, even though he knew he couldn't be seen, just felt a little creepy to him. But now he had spotted Blaine by accident and couldn't look away.

Kurt watched as several people passed him, patting his knee or his shoulder. Rachel came and tried to sit next to him on the stairs, but Blaine shook his head and waved her off. Kurt couldn't stand to see his boyfriend like this. Blaine was normally so outgoing and kind to everyone and Kurt felt guilty that he was the cause of this change, even if it was (hopefully) temporary. He wanted nothing more than to go over and give Blaine a hug and a kiss and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he would find someone new who would make him happy, and be there for him now that Kurt couldn't. As jealous and possessive as Kurt may have been when he was alive, being dead gave him a fresh perspective and his love for Blaine and desire for him to be happy and healthy outweighed any jealousy he might have from beyond the grave. As long as he stayed away from that Sebastian dick, that is.

"I know what you're thinking and you can stop right there." Sue's gruff voice snapped Kurt back to reality and he turned back to her, trying to mask the emotion that was evident on his face. "You cannot, under any circumstance, interact with the people from your life ever again. I can't make that any clearer."

Kurt's face fell. "I can't just give him some kind of sign that I'm okay, that he's going to be okay?"

"And how do you propose to do that, huh? You gonna rattle some chains?" Sue sneered at him. "Do you want me to help make whistling wind noises and knock some pictures off the walls?"

"Why are you being so mean to me?" For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few days, Kurt felt tears begin to prick his eyes.

Sue sighed, she'd gone overboard. When she spoke again, it was with a much gentler tone. "I'm not trying to be mean, Kurt, it's just…trying to insert yourself into their lives again now that your dead would just confuse and hurt them and make it impossible for them to move on with their lives. You want him to be happy right?" Sue motioned to Blaine, still sitting on the stairs, looking even more worn out by the second.

"It's what I want more than anything else I've ever wanted." Kurt answered honestly.

"Well then you have to let him go. He's going to be devastated for a while, that's normal. But in time he'll find himself again. Now then," Sue cleared her throat and stood up from the couch. "Enough chit chat, we've got places to go and souls to reap." She started heading for the door, motioning for Kurt to follow her. Kurt took one more long look at Blaine, fought the urge to linger in front of his dad in the foyer and stepped out of his house for what he imagined would be the last time.

An hour later, Kurt found himself sitting in a booth at Maggie's, a local twenty-four hour pancake joint. Sue sat opposite him as they waited for the other members of the Northwestern Ohio External Influence Reaping Division to join them. Conversation between the two had been minimal since leaving the Hummel's house. Kurt knew that what Sue told him about interfering with his family and friends' lives made sense, but he couldn't stop his brain from scheming different ways to at least check up on them from time to time.

They had only been sitting at the booth for about five minutes when two women came in and sat down with them. One, young and beautiful with curly dark brown hair sat down next to Kurt with a bounce, while the other, maybe in her middle thirties with a noticeable scowl on her face, slid in next to Sue and crossed her arms.

The one sitting next to Kurt stuck her hand out with a flourish. "You must be Kurt," She gushed. "My name is Annabel. Welcome aboard!"

The other woman rolled her eyes. "He isn't taking a cruise to the Bahamas, you know."

"There's no need for the attitude," Annabel admonished her before turning back to Kurt. "And this is Laura, you'll have to forgive her, she needs regular feedings or she gets a bit grouchy."

As if on cue, a waitress made her way over to the booth, notebook in hand. "Welcome to Maggie's, are you ready to order?"

"Never been more ready," Sue began. "I'll have the pancake platter with three strips of bacon, burnt, two sausage patties, a side of oatmeal and raisin toast, a biscuit and two eggs over easy."

Kurt's jaw dropped. This woman was a bottomless pit.

"I'll just have some toast." Laura huffed, closing her menu and sliding it to the waitress.

"The same, please," Annabel chirped. "And maybe some strawberry jam, if you don't mind?"

Kurt was stilling adding up everything he had seen Sue eat that day in his head, plus the meal she just ordered when he heard Sue clear her throat. "Kurt?"

He looked up to see the waitress looking at him expectantly. He shot a confused look at Sue. "She can see me?" He hissed.

"Yes, now order something before she thinks you're stupid." She said, handing him a menu. Laura snickered.

Kurt fumbled with the menu. "I, um…I'll just have what she's having." Kurt stuttered, motioning toward Annabel.

"Great choice!" Annabel said, linking her arm in Kurt's. The waitress gave them an odd look before scribbling on her notepad and collecting the menus.

"So I'm no longer invisible," Kurt stated once the waitress was out of earshot. "And I can eat." Now that Kurt thought about it, his stomach had started rumbling a bit. He almost forgot what it felt like to be hungry.

"Welcome to the wonderful life of the undead," Sue raised her water glass in a mock toast.

Just then, a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties came skidding through the door, almost knocking into an elderly couple attempting to exit at the same time. He scanned the room with a somewhat dazed look on his face which was replaced with one of recognition as he headed over to the booth. He pulled up a chair from an adjacent table and sat down at the end of the booth.

"You're late, Declan," Laura said. "Why does he get to be late all the time? When I'm late, you jump down my throat, but he just comes waltzing in whenever he feels like it." Sue began to speak when Declan cut her off.

"Listen, swamp thing, I had a reaping all the way across town and then the guy would not shut up long enough for me to send him off. It was pure torture."

"You poor thing," Laura mocked. "You want me to rub your feet for you?"

"Children," Sue sighed, exasperated. Both Laura and Declan looked guilty. "Kurt, this is Declan, Declan, this is Kurt, the new reaper taking what's-his-name's place."

"I don't know what you had against Sawyer," Annabel said, shaking her head at Sue. "He was always so friendly to me."

"Well I can think of two reasons why that might have been," Declan snickered, looking directly at Annabel's ample chest. Annabel punched him hard in the arm and Kurt couldn't tell if Declan was faking when he grimaced and massaged the spot with his hand.

"Anyway, Kurt will be shadowing you on a few reapings and in turn, you will be helping him with his first few," Sue addressed Declan. He may be a bumbling idiot at times, but out of the four of them, he had the most patience and was more straightforward with his reapings than either temperamental Laura or dramatic Annabel. "Also, I want you to help him find a place to stay. No offense, Porcelain, but I need you to get out of my apartment. You make weird noises in your sleep."

"Sounds like a blast," Declan winked at Kurt. Kurt could feel himself start to blush. _Was that a friendly wink or a flirty wink?_ He thought. Kurt squashed that thought as quickly as it had popped up. _What am I doing? I mean, he's cute and all, but I just got out of a relationship….well, I guess that's how you would put it….and he's probably not even gay. Do undead people have sex? Oh my God, I have to stop thinking right now._

Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to arrive with all the food. As she passed it out, she gave a look to Declan that said, 'You better not want any food because I am not re-writing this ticket.' He seemed to receive the message loud and clear, because he simply waved her off and shook his head, smiling.

After they finished eating, Sue announced that everyone was to report back to Maggie's at 8am sharp the next day to receive their daily reaping information. She paid the ticket and everyone with the exception of Declan filed out of the restaurant.

"Well then," Declan smiled at Kurt. "I guess we better head home. Long day at the office tomorrow."

"Great," Kurt could feel himself start to blush again. What was going on with him? "So, are you going to drop me off somewhere, or…" Kurt trailed off, not really knowing where he was supposed to be staying that night.

"Well, I figured you could just bunk with me tonight, if that's alright with you."

"I don't suppose I have many options, but yeah, that seems fine."

"Fantastic," Declan rubbed his hands together and stood up from the table. Kurt took one last sip from his water glass and followed Declan out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"And here we are." Declan announced as he opened the door to an immaculately decorated apartment. "Home, sweet home." Kurt shot a confused look between Declan and the apartment. There was fine art hanging on the walls, beautiful furniture and stylish rugs. Declan on the other hand looked like he had been dumpster diving in the recent past. Something wasn't quite adding up.

"No offense," Kurt began gently, "But this isn't quite what I was expecting your place to look like."

"It's great, isn't it?" Declan flashed a wide grin. "The guy who lived here did a bang-up job decorating it. I couldn't have found a better place to squat."

"You're a squatter?" Kurt took another look around before something dawned on him. "Wait, what happened to the guy who owns this place?"

"Oh him?" Declan shoved his hands in his pockets and began rocking back on his heels. "He died last Tuesday, creamed by a bus on his lunch break. Tragic. But you should feel the sheets this guy has. Eight hundred thread count!" Declan turned around and began striding back toward the bedroom. He had an uneasy feeling that Sue had left out some important details about the day-to-day aspects of being undead with Kurt and he was not looking forward to having to fill him in on all the unsavory particulars.

"So, you just took over this guy's home?" Kurt blurted incredulously, following after Declan. "Doesn't that feel wrong? It's kind of stealing and it just seems…dirty." Kurt wrapped his arms around his sides as he entered the bedroom. Declan turned back around to face him and plopped down on the bed.

"It's not like he's using it anymore. After all, he got to move on while we're stuck here, and it's not like being a grim reaper is a paid position with a benefits package."

"Wait, wait, wait." Kurt put his hand up in the air. "So they don't provide anything for us? And while we're on the subject, who exactly is 'They?' Who's in charge here?" Declan drew in a deep breath. He was definitely not prepared for all these questions. Had he been like this when kicked the bucket? He couldn't remember, it'd been so long and those first few months were kind of a blur.

"Look, Kurt, I don't really know. All I know is that Sue is in charge of our division and all communication between us and upper management goes through her. But no, you're pretty much on your own for food, clothing and shelter. No one said being a reaper was a picnic."

"Yeah, well I didn't choose this!" Kurt shouted. He could feel his face turning red again. Declan stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on the back of Kurt's neck in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"None of us did, but such is the afterlife. You do what you have to do to hopefully end up in a better place someday." Kurt could feel himself begin to calm down. Declan's hand on the back of his neck was cool and reassuring. He didn't have any racy thoughts about the gesture like he probably would have an hour prior. It was just nice to be touched by someone again.

After a few minutes of silence, Kurt spoke again. "So, do I have to get a job or something?" Declan shoved his hands back in his pockets looking slightly guilty again, a look Kurt was starting to recognize as common with Declan.

"Yeah, that's what most reapers do." Declan seemed to have developed a keen interest in studying the pattern in the ceiling tiles above his head.

"Do you have a job?" Kurt asked innocently.

"Not a job per se…" Declan struggled to find the right words. He already felt like Kurt thought he was a jerk for squatting in a dead guy's apartment, so he was reluctant to admit the source of most of his income. "Usually I just…you know…take whatever's in the wallets and purses of those I reap. It's not like they're using it!" Declan panicked and re-used his old excuse as he watched the look of growing disgust on Kurt's face. "I mean, come on. Do I look like a nine to five kind of guy? At least I don't steal from those who are still alive to use it!"

Kurt opened and closed his mouth several times before muttering, "Whatever. But just so you know, I plan on getting a job and living…unliving right." Kurt turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Declan was cute, but he was shady and Kurt definitely had some ethical concerns about his new roommate.

"Kurt, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me." Declan followed him out of the room. To Kurt's credit, he stopped and turned around to face him as Declan addressed him. "I'm a good guy, I really am, I just…I operate differently than the others. I've always been that way, even in life."

Kurt contemplated him for a moment. _What do I know?_ He asked himself. _I've been a reaper for all of 30 minutes, it's not really fair for me to pass judgment on someone who's been doing this for God knows how long. I wonder how long he's been dead?_ Kurt was curious, but decided that now wasn't the best time to bring it up. Maybe over a mug of warm milk later down the road.

"I believe you." Kurt finally said, and Declan felt tension he didn't know he'd been carrying leave his shoulders. "It's just a lot to deal with all at once. Do you mind if I use the bathroom? Being able to eat again comes with other hidden rewards, I suppose."

"Sure, it's right in there." Declan gestured toward a door in the hallway. Kurt was almost there when Declan suddenly remembered something and started to yell for Kurt to wait, but it was too late.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Kurt yelled from the bathroom, followed by a crash. Declan winced and rushed over to the door.

"Kurt?" He ventured as he knocked on the door. "There's something I forgot to tell you about. I'm coming in, okay?" Declan didn't wait for an answer before pushing the door open. Kurt must have stumbled backwards and tripped into the tub because he still laid there, legs draped over the side with a bewildered look on his face.

"Here, let me help you up, did you hurt yourself?" Kurt accepted Declan's extended hand and gingerly stood up, looking once more into the mirror.

"No, I'm fine, but do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? What happened to my face?" Kurt pressed his fingers to his chin, cheeks and forehead, pulling and pushing at the skin in different areas. His hair was the same cut and color, but his features were completely wrong. His eyes were larger and darker, his nose no longer cutely turned up at the end and his chin was slightly squarer. Overall, he looked like a completely different person who maybe was distantly related to his former self. He was still prodding his nose when he glanced over in the mirror and saw a second stranger standing next to him. He flinched in surprise and almost stumbled back again until he looked over and realized that it was Declan standing next to him. Only Declan's reflection was different like Kurt's.

"This is what we look like to the outside world."

"Who decides what we get to look like? Can I make requests? Because I'm not sure I can rock this nose."

Declan chuckled. "That's another question for which I have no answer. But you look fine. Kind of cute, actually."

Kurt inwardly grinned. "So is this how they make sure we don't interact with our old lives?" Kurt asked, finally leaving his nose alone to concentrate attention on his new chin.

"I suppose that's at least part of it."

After a few moments of silence, Kurt spoke again, tentatively. "Hey Declan?"

"What's that?"

"Did you mean what you said?" Kurt could feel himself start to blush. "About my reflection being, you know, cute?"

Declan turned from the mirror to study Kurt. Just as Kurt was starting to freak out that he had made things awkward, Declan answered.

"Not as cute as you, I suppose, but still cute." Declan grinned to himself as he left the bathroom to give Kurt some privacy. Kurt closed the bathroom door and Declan waited for him in the hallway. After several minutes, Kurt returned.

"Feel better?"

"I think I just need some rest. Do you mind if I take the couch?" Kurt indicated to the recliner sofa in what appeared to be the living room.

"Sure." Declan smiled. "I think I saw some spare linens in the hall closet. I'll grab them."

"Thank you." Kurt smiled and rubbed his eyes. After the couch had been made up, Declan left for the bedroom and shut the door, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts. He was nervous about tomorrow. It seemed like there was so much he needed to do—find a job, find a permanent place to stay, find clothes and oh yeah, witness someone's horrible death and be responsible for making sure their soul passes on. No pressure there. Kurt could feel himself getting overwhelmed thinking about it all, so he did his best to push the next day's agenda out of his mind. Instead he tried to fill his mind with happy memories of Blaine, but he couldn't stop the image of the broken boy he saw at his dad's house earlier in the day from flooding his mind. _He'll be okay,_ Kurt kept reassuring himself. _He just needs time and he'll be fine eventually._ As much as Kurt wanted to believe that he would be able to stay out of Blaine's life, he knew himself better than that. He wasn't going to rattle any chains, as Sue put it, but what would be the harm in checking up on him every now and then? All of the sudden, Kurt had an idea. He shot up from the couch and swiveled to put his feet on the floor. He had a great idea and as much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian deserved at least partial credit for helping him think of it. Kurt smiled as he began mapping out his plans for the next day, which of course, would have to be worked in around whatever reaping assignment he and Declan were given. After thinking through his plan and the potential outcome, Kurt was relaxed enough to finally drift off to sleep, images of a happy, healthy Blaine dancing in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It had been six days since Blaine had the wind knocked out of him, six days since he lost Kurt and six days since he felt like he could breathe properly. He couldn't remember the drive over from the park to the Hummel residence last Thursday and his memory of everything that had happened since was fuzzy at best. The rush of white noise that filled his ears the moment that Finn had told him, with unshed tears in his eyes, that Kurt was dead, had just started to slowly dissipate.

Aside from the funeral and a painful half hour at the Hummel residence afterwards the day prior, Blaine had been locked in his bedroom, lights off, curtains drawn, in complete silence. He spent most of the time lying on the floor in front of his bed, curled up underneath one of Kurt's sweaters. _Like a crazy person,_ Blaine thought. And wasn't he? He sure felt crazy, with the static in his head, the inability to breathe, the fact that eating, bathing, pissing or doing anything else remotely human made him so nauseated that he couldn't stand. How he had pulled it together long enough to attend the funeral was a complete mystery to him. He almost didn't even go, but in the end he had to or he knew he would regret not going forever. He vaguely remembered finding his best suit hanging on his bedroom door when he returned from his shower that morning, still in the bag from the dry cleaners. His mom must have taken it in for him. He would thank her for it later, when he could bring himself to form sentences again.

He was so tired now, but he couldn't bring himself to lie down in his own bed. Whether it was the memory of sharing it with Kurt or his inability to allow himself any form of physical comfort, he wasn't sure. Probably a combination of the two. The thought of allowing himself to sleep until he wasn't tired anymore, to eat until he was full, to brush the tangles out of his hair and wash his face...all of these things disgusted Blaine. He didn't deserve to be comfortable, not when, ultimately, he was the reason Kurt was dead. _If I had never opened my big mouth about that stupid fucking open mic night..._ That was the thought that kept repeating over and over through his mind. Blaine wasn't stupid. He knew that there were a million other factors that influenced what happened. Kurt could have respected Blaine's wishes and not argued with his dad about missing the dinner Friday night. He could have gone home or called Blaine to vent rather than going to the park alone. The batter could have pulled a little more. The park complex could have built higher fences. But the whole day's events were set in motion because of Blaine. No one would ever be able to convince him that it wasn't ultimately his fault that Kurt was gone.

Blaine pulled himself up into a sitting position on the floor and waiting for his head to stop spinning. His mom kept leaving food at his door and for a while he just ignored it. After the first day and a half, she became worried and wouldn't leave from outside his bedroom until he pulled the tray inside and shut the door again. Satisfied that he would eat it once he saw the food and his hunger overtook him, she would head back down the stairs. Blaine didn't eat it though; instead he would open his window and fling the food into the woods below. Twice he had broken down and tore the corners off of a sandwich, forcing them down with a few gulps of water, only to have them reappear minutes later. Now he was past the point of hunger and he didn't know if his murky state of mind could still be attributed to Kurt's death or if he was starting to feel the effects of starvation. He didn't care, really, either way made no difference to Blaine.

But now he was going to have to force himself up off the floor and go through the motions again like he did yesterday. A half hour earlier, Blaine's mom had reappeared at his door, knocking twice before turning the handle and finding it unlocked. She opened the door tentatively, as if afraid her own son would jump out an attack her. It's not that Blaine had lashed out at her over this, in fact, it was the complete opposite. Her usually outgoing, happy and endlessly optimistic only child was a merely a shell of himself since the incident.

Mrs. Anderson knew that Kurt and her son had been in love. Well, as in love as two 18 year olds could be. She wasn't convinced that high-schoolers could fully grasp what all-encompassing love really meant. But if any teenagers were able to, she thought, it would have been those two. Kurt's death had been a complete shock, and of course she expected Blaine to take it extremely hard. The emotions of kids are often so much more intensely felt then those experiencing them in adulthood. But this had gone too far. She knew he wasn't eating. Scout, Blaine's lab mix, kept coming in from the backyard with the sandwiches and fruit she had been sending up to his room. She let it go for a few days longer than she should have though, and when Scout came through the doggy-door with a waffle and a wagging tail this morning, it was the last straw.

When she entered Blaine's room, she had to let her eyes readjust to the darkness for a moment. At first, she though Blaine had somehow left. A slight panic rose in her as she scanned over the still-made bed, but then she saw her son on the floor, curled up with a sweater draped over his head. If the circumstances were different, she may have even laughed at the sight. Not today, though, not after the past week. _This has to end today,_ she thought resolutely.

"Blaine?"

No answer.

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?"

Of course he was awake. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept for more than five minutes at a time. He thought briefly about pretending he was asleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fool her. She would just stay until he woke up, like she used to when he was sick as a child. He pulled the sweater down off of his face and clutched it to his chest, but he didn't sit up. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to without arousing her suspicion even more. He watched as she came over and sat at the edge of the bed and looked down at him.

"Blaine, we need to talk." She was hoping for an affirmation of some kind, even a nod, but Blaine's lack of response told her that it would be a one-sided conversation. She was desperate to have her son back. One child had died already and she couldn't help feeling in some ways like hers had been dead for the past week as well.

Mrs. Anderson struggled over how to approach him. "I can't imagine what you're going through." She started honestly. "All I know is that you are in so much pain right now and I am completely at a loss as to how to help you through this. I'm your mom, I'm supposed to know how to make everything better, but I honestly don't know what to do or say."

She paused again, hoping for a reaction, but was met again with silence.

"I do know this though." She silently steeled herself for what she was going to say next. She had to be firm with him, but she ran the risk of breaking him even farther if she didn't do it the right way. "You haven't eaten in almost a week, you obviously haven't slept in your bed either and aside from yesterday, before…before, I don't think I've heard you taking a shower."

There it is, Blaine thought. He was pretty sure now that his behavior was out in the open, he wasn't going to be allowed to continue on the path he was cutting for himself. Part of him was almost relieved, despite the guilt he still felt. He needed his mom, he needed someone to tell him what to do and when to do it, because even in his state of mind, he knew that he wasn't capable of taking care of himself right now.

"Within the next hour, Blaine, I need you to do some things for me." Mrs. Anderson felt bad for talking to her eighteen year old son like he was four again, but she didn't know how else to approach the situation. "First, I want you to get up and take a hot shower. Then, I want you to get dressed in clean clothes and come downstairs. I'm going to make you something to eat, and I want you to eat it all. If it makes you nauseated, we'll deal with that, but son, you have got to eat." As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the desperate edge out of her voice. She wanted to grab him and shake him, but she was afraid of him crumbling into dust between her fingers.

"Before you do anything, though, I need you to show me in some way that you're absorbing what I'm telling you." She inwardly sighed in relief when she caught the barely discernible nod Blaine offered her and stood up from the bed. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything, but remember, honey, I need you at the kitchen table in no more than an hour." With that, she closed the door and Blaine was left alone in the dark again.

Blaine spent the first half of his allotted hour trying to get his brain to communicate to his legs to start moving. With the help of his bed to lean on, he finally straightened up and stretched his back. Making his way slowly to the bathroom, he could smell the scent of bacon wafting from the kitchen. His mouth watered while at the same time, his stomach clenched painfully and bile rose in his throat. He tried his best to ignore all of it as he closed the bathroom door and turned the hot water on. Yesterday he had taken a cold shower, partially because he didn't feel like he deserved a hot one, and partially to try to jolt the fog from his head so he could be somewhat alert at the funeral. At this point, though, Blaine was too tired to fight with his guilt and self-hatred. It was like his mom's orders had opened the floodgates and the needs of his body were fast overriding the desires of his mind.

The shower felt wonderful. Blaine had to sit down on the built-in bench after a few minutes, because he started feeling dizzy, but he let the hot water beat on his back until it was almost tepid before turning it off. Grabbing a towel and rubbing it through his hair before wrapping it around his waist, he climbed out and cleared the fog from the mirror with his palm. I look like shit, he thought, and pulled a comb through his hair, just enough to release the tangles. He went back to his room and found some clean underwear, jeans and a t-shirt waiting for him on his bed. His mom must have thought he needed some help dressing again today. Blaine wanted to be annoyed, but really he was grateful. He pulled on the clothes and slowly began making his way downstairs. When he made it to the kitchen, he looked his mom in the eye for the first time in almost a week and they both had the same thought, though neither was aware of what was going on in the other's mind.

If he can just make it through today, he'll be fine.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Twelve hours had passed since Kurt had left from Maggie's with Declan and he found himself sitting in the same booth as the night before. Annabel was already there by the time he and Declan arrived, and Laura was walking through the door moments later. Laura was wearing a U.S. Postal Service uniform and took her hat off before sliding in the booth. Everyone seemed relieved that they had beat Sue to the restaurant. It was obvious to Kurt that when Sue said 8am sharp, she meant it, ensuring that even Declan, who spent thirty minutes that morning searching for his left shoe, made it on time.

The conversations this time bore a striking similarity to the one the previous night: Annabel gushing about this or that, Laura rolling her eyes and blaming Declan for something and Sue ordering more food than any one person could possibly hope to eat. Kurt wondered idly if food had calories once you were dead. He guessed not, because Sue would have been humongous, but he decided to play it safe for the first few weeks just in case. He ordered a bowl of oatmeal and a banana, earning a smirk from Declan, who ordered bacon with a side of bacon.

Sue waited until everyone had eaten before getting down to business. She never liked to discuss business on an empty stomach. There really was nothing worse than a cranky grim reaper in her mind, Laura being the perfect example. One time, Sue caught her waiting until after someone had died in a horrible accident involving a chainsaw before reaping their soul. If Laura hadn't already been dead, Sue would have killed her herself. That was Sue's number one rule: Never, under any circumstances, wait to take a soul after death. It was a cruel thing to do and Sue reported Laura for the violation, but the claim went nowhere. _Too much red tape in this business,_ Sue had thought. The only thing she could do now was randomly check in on Laura's reapings to make sure she was going about it correctly. Thankfully, in the two years since the incident, Sue never saw Laura violate the rule again. But that didn't mean Sue was going to let up on her. It would be a long time before that happened, if it ever did.

Once the plates had been cleared, Sue pulled out her day planner and got to work, while the conversation between the other four began to wind down. Declan, Laura and Annabel all knew the drill and were waiting patiently for Sue to finish up. Kurt watched as Sue transferred notes from her day planner onto three yellow sticky notes and passed one to each of the other reapers.

"What about me, don't I get one?" Kurt asked, not even knowing what was on the sticky notes, just knowing that he was being left out. He glanced over to his right to look at what was written on the note that was given to Declan.

_B. Keller_

_Corner of Beech and Maple_

_11:14am_

"Not for a few more days, Porcelain," Sue told him, snapping her day planner shut. "I want you to tag along with Declan for a while and when he tells me you're ready, you'll get an assignment."

"So wait, what does this mean?" Kurt asked, indicating toward the note.

"Well, this is the name of the person whose soul needs to be reaped," Declan explained, moving his thumb down the side of his note. "This is where they are going to die and this is the approximate time they're gonna bite it."

"Dec!" Annabel scolded. "Watch what you say around the newly deceased. Can't you be just a little more tactful?" She reached over the table to pet Kurt's arm.

"Oh, right," Declan muttered, looking embarrassed. "Sorry Kurt."

"It's okay," Kurt answered honestly. He kind of liked the fact that Declan didn't walk on eggshells around him. Neither did Sue or Laura, for that matter, but Declan made him feel more at ease than the rest.

"There's really no sense in coddling him," Laura chimed in. "He's going to have to toughen up if he's going to be able to do his job right and I'm not about to pick up the slack for some crybaby who can't do his job."

"Okay, where did that come from?" Kurt answered defensively. "I haven't even done anything yet."

"Pay no attention, Porcelain, Female Lewis Black over here is just overly sensitive about an incident with a former reaper that occurred years ago. Give it a rest." Laura pursed her lips and glared at Sue.

"Are we done here?" Laura huffed, starting to get up from the booth. "Some of us have jobs to get to."

"Go, all of you," Sue said, picking up a newspaper from a nearby table and sitting back down at the table. "I'll see you back here at six."

"Well," Annabel chirped, linking her arm through Kurt's as they walked out of Maggie's. "My reaping isn't until 4:00 so I think I'll go do some shopping. Kurtsie, would you care to join for a while?"

Kurt tried not to flinch at the nickname. _Kurtsie? Who does she think she is?_ Kurt's inner diva asked. He wasn't sure how he felt about Annabel yet. Something about her seemed off and he hadn't known her long enough to tell if she was really this bubbly or if it was an act. _Why put on an act though? It's not like she has to impress anyone,_ he thought. _We're all stuck together for God knows how long, whether we like it or not._

"Um, no, thank you, but I think I'm going to take this time to see about a potential job." Kurt explained, noticing the surprised look on Declan's face.

"You already have something in mind?" Declan asked. This kid was a go-getter that's for sure. In all of his years as a reaper, Declan still hadn't worked up the motivation to go look for an actual job. Money was way too easy to come by under his current method and he was too lazy to come by it honestly at this point.

"Yeah, it's actually where I was planning on getting a job this summer to save up for when I head to New York—" Kurt cut himself off and instantly felt a pang in his chest. New York. He hadn't even thought about it since his death. He and Rachel had both been accepted into NYADA and they were planning on spending the summer working in order to save up for rent and utilities.

Declan noticed the look on Kurt's face and, afraid that he might start crying or yelling or doing something else emotional that Declan was totally not prepared to deal with, he decided to refocus the conversation. "So where is it?"

"Where is what?" Kurt asked, jolted out of his brief period of mourning.

"Where are you going to apply for a job?" Annabel elaborated. She had been around Declan long enough to be able to read his mind. They finished each other's sentences way more often than either of them was comfortable with and even though they argued like siblings, they also had a deep love and understanding of each other, which neither of them would ever admit.

"Oh, it's a coffee shop I go to—I mean, went to, all the time. The Lima Bean." He saw Annabel and Declan exchange a look. "What?" He asked innocently.

"Kurt, you just have to be real careful," Declan answered. "It's really not a great idea to spend a lot of time somewhere that closely connected to your past life. You've got to be a completely different person and it can be confusing trying to do that, especially if you're interacting with people you once knew, even if it's from the other side of the counter."

Kurt immediately became defensive. They couldn't interfere with him doing this, it was part of his plan to keep an eye on Blaine. From a distance of course. He knew that if the others knew what his main motivation was for wanting to work at the coffee shop was, they would either try to stop him or, failing at that, get Sue involved and that was the last thing he wanted or needed. He had to be allowed to get this job. "I can handle it, guys. I know you don't know me very well yet, but I'm a very good actor. I played Officer Krupke in West Side Story. Brought the house down."

"Oh yeah?" Annabel arched an eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Kurt." He was confused. _Does she seriously not remember my name?_

"So you're going to go apply for a job at the coffee shop where you went all the time, using your name and no one is going to find that odd?"

Kurt blushed. _Damnit,_ he scolded himself, _you have to be smarter about this._ "Well, obviously I'm not going to use my real name. That would be ridiculous." Kurt tried to play it off like he knew what he was doing all along, but he could tell that neither she nor Declan were fooled. For a second time, the two exchanged looks, Annabel looking skeptical and Declan looking worried.

"Listen, cut me some slack," Kurt decided to employ his last, and hopefully best, strategy—begging. "Please, just go along with this and let me try it. I promise that if things get confusing or if I start feeling the urge to get involved with aspects from my old life, I'll quit. You can even check up on me, I won't be offended, I promise. Just, please…don't tell Sue about this and let me at least try."

Declan sighed. He really didn't want the responsibility of having to keep tabs on Kurt, but he was a sucker for blue eyes, especially ones as pretty as Kurt's. "Fine," Kurt jumped up and down twice and clapped his hands together under his chin. "But we need to work out the details of your new life first before you do this. You need a name and a back story to start with, and I guess we'll go from there."

"Well," Annabel readjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "You kids have fun with that. I'm off to the mall to see if I can't find a new pair of shoes to match the skirt I got last week." And with that, Annabel turned on her heel and headed off in the opposite direction from the Lima Bean.

"So what does she do for money?" Kurt asked Declan. Both times that he had seen her, she was impeccably dressed and made up, so it seemed whatever job she had, she must be making fairly good money.

"Annabel? She's an escort." Declan answered, grinning.

Kurt whipped his head between Declan and Annabel's shrinking figure several times before sputtering, "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. It's actually a pretty good deal for her. Real easy to work her schedule around her reapings, you know?"

"Yeah, I can see that." Kurt had to nod his head in agreement at that. Now that he knew what she did as an occupation, he could see that she was probably very good at it.

"Anyway, should we get going?" Declan asked, rubbing his hands together. "We can work out the basic details of your life on our way there and if you're as good of an actor as you say you are, you should have no problem bullshitting your way into a job." He flashed a grin at Kurt and Kurt felt the color rising again in his cheeks, which he hoped against hope that Declan hadn't noticed. Declan did.

"Sounds good." Kurt was really hoping to know for sure one way or another whether he had any hope of landing the job before they had to head out to the reaping at a quarter after eleven. The last thing he needed before his first reap-along was to be distracted by a job prospect.

"So how about a name?" Declan looked at Kurt as they walked.

Kurt thought about it. He stopped in front of a store window, an antique shop, where a mirror hung in the display. He contemplated his strange reflection for a moment before turning to Declan. "I don't know. What does the new me look like?"

Declan was silent for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe Jeremy? Or Trevor?"

Kurt pondered the choices. "Trevor isn't bad, I suppose. I could go with that. Yeah," Kurt felt his confidence rise a bit. Declan was right, Kurt's new reflection definitely looked like a Trevor. "That feels right. Trevor it is."

"Well that's the hardest part," Declan said as they continued walking.

"This whole thing is just so weird," Kurt commented as they neared The Lima Bean. "I mean, it's been a week since my accident and I feel like I should be having a harder time adjusting to everything."

"According to Sue you had a rough first few days," Declan responded gently.

"Well, yeah, but could you blame me?" Kurt asked. Declan shook his head but didn't respond. "I guess it's just strange to think about how much has changed and I finally feel like I'm starting to get comfortable with this whole arrangement."

Declan opened his mouth to respond, but then thought better of it. He knew that things were going to be bad for Kurt today. No one handled seeing their first reaping well, especially not in the External Influences Division. The deaths were almost always messy and no matter how hard you tried to prepare for it, the first dozen or so left the new reaper completely, emotionally wrecked. Declan knew from past experience that there was no use in trying to prepare a new reaper for the horror of the initial experience. It was much better just to deal with the fallout afterwards.

"Well," Kurt drew in a breath and pushed his shoulders back as they reached the front door to the coffee shop. "Here goes nothing." They walked in and Declan found a comfortable chair in the corner while Kurt went to the counter to ask for an application. Once he had it, he found where Declan was sitting and began working on his application, putting his new name at the top and making up an address. _I hope they don't check these things too carefully,_ he thought to himself nervously. Kurt was real big on honesty and he felt slightly guilty fudging so much information, practically everything on the application, but he needed this job. If he didn't get it, then his whole plan was up in smoke and he hadn't worked out a backup plan yet.

Ten minutes later, Kurt was back at the counter handing in his application and speaking to the manager. Declan grinned to himself as he watched Kurt excitedly pump the harried-looking manager's hand after speaking with her for a few minutes. Kurt practically skipped back to the table.

He beamed at Declan. "You're never going to believe this." He said, barely able to contain his excitement.

"I would have to guess by the apron and visor in your hand that you go the job?" Declan asked.

"She said that two people quit earlier this week and that she's desperate." Kurt said, looking over to the manager who appeared to be doing three jobs at once. "I start tomorrow!"

"What are you going to do about the reapings?" Declan asked worriedly. He hoped that Kurt had already figured out that reaping was the definite priority.

"I'm one step ahead of you," Kurt boasted. "I told her that my grandma was on dialysis and that I might have to leave at random times for a little while during the day." Kurt again felt a pang of guilt for the lie and he was shocked when the manager told him that she would work around it. _She really is desperate_ , he thought, it wasn't even a good lie.

"Well then," Declan stood up, rubbing his hands together. "Looks like you've got it all figured out. Just remember—"

I know, I know," Kurt cut him off. "I will be extra careful and I won't interfere with the aspects of my old life. Scouts honor." Kurt made the sign with his right hand.

"You know that's the girl scout honor sign, right?"

What?" Kurt asked with mock offense. "I was a superb Brownie, I'll have you know. My sash had more badges than anyone else." Declan shook his head and laughed. He had no idea if Kurt was serious or joking, but either way, he was really starting to like this kid.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Blaine, honey, slow down, you're going to make yourself sick," Mrs. Anderson told her son gently. He had come down the stairs looking slightly more alive after his shower and at first, he was reluctant to take the first bite of waffle she made for him for the second time that morning. But after a few tentative bites, Blaine was practically shoving the food down his throat, not even chewing completely. She almost worried that he would start choking. It was still better than the alternative, though. His cheeks were so hollow and the way his suit hung off of him the day before made her heart break. She knew that once he was hydrated again, he would look a million times better, but right now she was just happy to see Blaine responding to her.

After a few more minutes of less harried eating, Blaine pushed the plate away and took a sip of orange juice before running the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe it. The action was so unlike her son, she almost playfully scolded him to use a napkin, but thought better of it. She wasn't used to walking on eggshells around Blaine, they always had such a close relationship, but she found herself measuring every word and action very carefully this morning. He seemed so fragile, she felt like she was barely holding onto his fingertips at the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and she was afraid she would lose him.

"How's your stomach?" She asked him, tentatively. He instinctually moved a hand to his belly and pressed softly. He was slightly nauseated, but not enough to have him running to the bathroom yet.

"It's okay," he said quietly. His mom's eyes widened slightly as she heard Blaine's voice for the first time since last Thursday evening. It was grainy from lack of use and even he seemed surprised to have spoken.

"It's good to hear your voice again," She tried to keep her composure. The last thing he needed was for her to break down. "I've missed it. I've missed you."

Blaine nodded. He felt bad for causing his mom any pain, and truthfully, he missed her too.

"Sweetheart, some of your friends from Dalton called me yesterday," Mrs. Anderson drew in a deep breath, launching into her second mission of the morning. The first was to get her son out of bed (or off the floor, as it was), dressed and fed. Now that his physical needs had been met, it was time to work on the emotional ones. "They said they tried to talk to you after the service and you wouldn't even acknowledge that they were there. They're very worried about you."

Blaine worked his mouth for several seconds as he tried to figure out how to put the agony of what he had been feeling into words. "Mom," he choked. She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. Blaine hung his head, trying to compose himself. "I can't…how can I talk to them, when—when it's all my fault?"

Mrs. Anderson straightened up. She couldn't be hearing what she thought just came out of her son's mouth. "What's all your fault?" She said evenly, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"That he's—that Kurt is…please don't make me say it." He pleaded with her. It was one thing to have the phrase, _Kurt is dead because of you,_ repeating through your head non-stop, day after day, but to have to say it out loud was pure torture.

"Oh my God, Blaine, honey," She quickly stood up and hugged Blaine, who was still sitting on the kitchen bar stool to her chest. Thankfully his head was down and he couldn't see the tears that sprung to her eyes or the look of horror on her face. _This is why he's been acting the way he has?_ She thought. She was immediately angry with herself for not thinking about this possibility earlier. Of course it wasn't his fault, but she should have recognized the symptoms of survivor's guilt in her son earlier. She held him close for a few minutes, feeling the silent tremors of his body as he fought to regain composure once again. As he started to calm, she held him at arm's length and looked him straight in the eyes.

"What happened to Kurt is absolutely in no way your fault." She said. She realized that she was squeezing his arms so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. She let out a breath and loosened her grip, but kept a firm hold on him. "Please promise me that you will stop thinking that way."

He looked at her with defeat. "Mom, I can't promise that. It's all I can think about."

"But honey, you weren't even there—" She jumped back, startled, as Blaine wrenched himself out of her grip and stood, stumbling off the bar stool.

"That's right, Mom!" He yelled at her, his face suddenly flushed and tears burning his bloodshot eyes. "That's the whole point! I wasn't there. If I had been there, this never would have happened."

"Oh, really?" Mrs. Anderson threw all of her chips in and decided to get angry right back at her son. This was going downhill fast and the only thing she could think to do was match his emotions and hopefully get him to back down so they could talk through this insane line of thought Blaine was following. "How do you figure?" She yelled back at him.

"It was because of me that he even ended up at that stupid park. He got into a fight with his dad over me and then he drove to the park to walk around and clear his head." Blaine was still yelling, but the passion was gone from his voice. He voice was hoarse from the sudden overuse and he sounded somewhat defeated, which is exactly what his mom was hoping for.

"Son," She lowered her voice and took a small step toward him. "I know you're not thinking very clearly since this whole thing happened—"

"It's not a thing, Mom!" He cut her off again, his anger renewed. "Kurt dying is not a _thing_. I—" Blaine's eyes suddenly went wide as a hand flew to his mouth. He didn't have time to turn around and run to the bathroom as he vomited the waffles and orange juice on the floor between them. Mrs. Anderson rushed over to him and began rubbing small circles over his lower back. She thought briefly about running and getting the kitchen trash can for him, but the floor was going to need to be mopped anyway. Blaine heaved until there was nothing left and sat back on the stool, defeated. His mom walked around to the kitchen sink and filled a glass with water. "Rinse your mouth out and then start taking tiny sips, okay?" He nodded and did what she told him. She knew that she had made some progress with him. He needed to get his feelings out in the open and the fact that he had just purged the contents of his stomach all over the kitchen floor was somewhat symbolic as well. She began cleaning up the floor as Blaine sat in silence, sipping his water.

"I think I just want to lie down for a while," He finally said. Mrs. Anderson looked at the glass. She was impressed that he had managed to get through about three quarters of the water. It was less than she had hoped for, but more than she expected.

"Okay, I'll go grab your pillow and blanket so you can lay down on the couch in the living room." She said, getting up from where she was kneeling on the floor. She went over to the sink to take off the rubber gloves she had put on to clean up the mess.

"Can't I go to my room?" Blaine couldn't believe he was eighteen and having to ask permission to sleep in his own bed, but he knew why she was treating him like this. She didn't trust him and, when he thought about it honestly, right now he wasn't sure that he could be fully trusted to take care of himself.

"No," She said firmly, but lovingly. "I want you to take a break from your room, plus I want to be able to keep an eye on you. You're dehydrated and I want to make sure you get enough fluids today so we don't end up at the hospital."

Blaine nodded and began shuffling to the living room. Mrs. Anderson breathed deeply in relief for what felt like the hundredth time that morning as she watched his retreating figure. She wasn't naïve enough to think that the whole blame issue had been put to rest, but she sensed that his determination to torture himself over this had broken at least a little bit.

Blaine was asleep by the time she made it back downstairs with his pillow and blanket. For the first time in a week, her son looked peaceful and she had to fight back the tears once more. She gingerly tucked the pillow under his head and covered him with the blanket and then sat down in the rocker beside him, watching him as he slept. After a few minutes, she got up and refilled Blaine's water glass and grabbed a book. She sat back down, placing the water glass on the side table and began reading. Both spent the rest of the day there, she reading and him sleeping soundly. She woke him up every hour or so to have him sip some water. He was so exhausted that she didn't think he'd remember having his sleep disrupted by the time he woke up for good.

It was nearly nine o'clock at night by the time Blaine finally sat up from the couch, stretching his back and yawning. He had a slight headache, but compared to how he'd been feeling earlier that day, he felt like a million bucks. He looked over to his right and saw his mom curled up in the rocker asleep, book still in hand. He smiled a bit, in spite of himself. She was so predictable. Whenever he wasn't feeling well, she would refuse to leave his side. Blaine felt very fortunate to have a mom that cared for him so much. "Mom?" he spoke softly, gently rubbing her arm to wake her up. Her neck was resting in a funky angle and he worried it would hurt when she awoke.

"Hmmm?" She mumbled sleepily, uncurling her body and forcing her eyes open in a squint. "What's that, sweetheart? How do you feel?"

"I'm starving," Blaine told her.

She sat up now, more alert. "Would you like me to make you something?" She found Blaine's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"That would be great. Thank you."

"Of course," She stood up and readjusted her blouse, smoothing the wrinkles out. "And Blaine, while I'm working on it, you might think about calling Wes or David. I know they would be very relieved to hear from you."

Blaine contemplated for a moment. She was right, and he wanted to talk to his friends. He missed them, but part of him was still scared that they would blame him for what happened. They had been friends with Kurt too, after all. The rational part of his mind was fighting with the emotional, irrational part and finally a winner emerged.

"I think I will, Mom," he finally spoke.

"I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After leaving The Lima Bean, Declan and Kurt headed back to the apartment to drop off Kurt's uniform before they had to head over to the reaping location. Since they had a bit of time, Declan decided to try to prepare Kurt a little for what was going to come. He knew that there was no way to prevent the meltdown that was likely to occur after Kurt witness his first reaping, but he could at least try to warn him a bit. After Kurt draped his apron over a chair and placed his visor on the kitchen table, Declan motioned for him to sit down on the couch in the living room. Kurt obliged and Declan pulled up a chair so the he was sitting directly in front of him. Leaning over with his forearms resting on his thighs and his hands clasped together, he spoke.

"Kurt, I wanted to ask you," Kurt suddenly looked flustered and Declan realized he probably shouldn't have started off that way. He may be pretty dense when it came to certain things, but he had a feeling that Kurt had developed a little bit of a crush on him. Declan wasn't surprised, after all, he had been pretty flirty with Kurt, but that was just his nature. He was a friendly guy and he enjoyed making others feel good. Noticing that Kurt was looking more uncomfortable by the second, he hurried to the point. "Have you put any thought into what's going to happen this afternoon?"

Kurt let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Kurt was embarrassed. _What, did you think he was going to ask you out or something?_ Kurt thought. _There you go again, making things up in your head that don't exist. Besides, you have enough to worry about without adding a stupid crush on top of it, namely Blaine. Quit screwing around, Hummel._

"Kurt?" Declan looked at him with a confused expression and then Kurt realized he had been moving his lips silently as he berated himself. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and had there been a convenient hole in the ground, Kurt would have drug himself into it without a second thought.

"Sorry," He said with a sheepish grin. "Um, no, I guess I haven't really thought about it. I just—I guess I don't know what to expect, but I figured it would be a lot like watching my own death and obviously that was no picnic."

"Well, yes and no," Declan began. "It'll be like your own death in the sense that there will be a body on the ground, people around you will probably be freaking out and there'll be someone who is completely and utterly confused as to why they are standing above their own dead body. Only this time, you won't be that person. This time, you will be the one responsible for comforting that person and sending them on. It's tough, especially the first go round and I want to make sure that you know that."

"Yeah, but you'll be there, right? I mean, this isn't some prank on the new guy where you're going to disappear at the last second and see if I can make the cut, is it?"

"Of course not, but just because I'm doing all the work doesn't mean…listen, bottom line Kurt, I just want you to understand that this is going to be really tough for you and that's okay. No one expects you to handle this well right off the bat."

Kurt instinctually threw his right leg over his left and crossed his arms, hugging his chest, and feeling very defensive all of the sudden. "I can handle myself better than you might think." His eyes narrowed at Declan as if issuing a challenge.

Declan sighed. "I didn't mean to suggest that you couldn't." This was not going as planned. "You know what? Never mind, we'll just—why don't we get going, huh? It's almost time anyway."

"Sounds perfect," Kurt said, in a voice he hoped sounded confident. Inside though, he was freaking out. Why hadn't he thought through the particulars of what was going to happen today? He spent so much time worrying about the stupid job at the coffee shop that he hadn't put any thought into preparing himself to witness someone else's death.

Declan noticed the flicker in Kurt's eyes when he responded and knew that he was putting on a brave front. He tried to think of something else to say, but anything he said at this point would probably be misinterpreted as insulting to Kurt and would just make things worse. Damn, this kid was difficult. Declan had to remind himself that Kurt was young and very new at this, and despite the fact that Declan looked like a 26 year old, he was, in actuality, much older than that. He'd been reaping for about as long as he'd been alive and Kurt was still coping with his very recent death. He needed patience and understanding and if Declan couldn't figure out how to deliver that right this second he was better off just keeping his mouth shut.

"Alright then," Declan said, standing up. "Let's go." He headed to the door with Kurt following him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan and Kurt arrived at the corner of Beech and Maple at eleven o'clock on the dot, approximately 14 minutes before the death was to occur. Kurt was growing more and more nervous, but he didn't want Declan to catch on to that. He knew he was being stubborn and Declan had seemed more than willing to comfort Kurt the best he could, but Kurt was tired of everyone thinking he was weak and fragile. It had been that way in life and he was doing his best to make sure he didn't gain that reputation in death.

"So, how exactly are we supposed to know who B. Keller is?" Kurt asked as the two sat down on a bench near the intersection. Beech and Maple crossed near the southwestern corner of Downtown Lima. 'Downtown' was a very loose description. It consisted of about four square blocks and due to the downturn of the economy, about a quarter of the shops were out of business or served as revolving doors for new, quickly failing businesses.

"That's the trickiest part," Declan answered. "We have to figure it out before the accident occurs. On top of that, we don't even know what's going to happen."

"Why didn't Sue give us more details? A first name and a physical description would be nice." Kurt muttered. He was officially worried now. "What if we get the wrong person? You know, take the wrong soul?"

"Well first, Sue gives us what's given to her," Declan explained. "I don't know why more details aren't handed down, but I can tell you that after some practice, it becomes much easier to figure out who the subject is. You just have to pay attention to clues in the environment and sometimes you can predict who it is and what's going to happen without much effort. Second, it's impossible to take the wrong soul. Remember, we don't have power over whose souls we take, we are only the middle-men between here and there." Declan pointed lazily upwards, casting his eyes to the sky before glancing at his watch. "It's about five after." He muttered, returning his attention to Kurt.

"What kind of clues? I can't see anything out of the ordinary here." Kurt looked around. "I mean, I would guess that there's going to be some kind of accident involving a car since we're at an intersection."

"Maybe," Declan offered. "But maybe not. Think a little deeper, more abstract." Declan pointed over his left shoulder to a shop behind them. "See that jewelry store? We live in some pretty desperate times right now, what if someone tries to come in and do a smash and grab? Maybe the owner has a gun and isn't afraid to use it. Or check out the couple in this car," he indicated to a car parked in the street directly in front of them. "They seemed to be having a pretty heated argument. Who's to say it won't turn fatal?"

"Okay, okay," Kurt laughed, getting the feeling that Declan was trying to pull one over on him. "Maybe we could entertain those ideas if we lived in some exciting, dangerous city, but this is Lima, Ohio. Stuff like that doesn't happen here."

"Oh really?" Declan countered. "I think you'd be surprised. Not everything that happens here makes the evening news."

Kurt was about to respond when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He must have been hallucinating though, because he thought he saw a little gremlin-looking creature climb down the street sign post, kick a piece of the crumbling sidewalk up into the path in front of the road and then jump onto the corner of the jewelry store and climb up the side before disappearing on the roof.

"What th—did you see that?" Kurt punched Declan in the arm to get his attention.

Declan looked at him innocently. "See what?"

"It looked like…I don't know, I think I'm seeing things, but it looked like some kind of…creature just—never mind." Kurt finished lamely. The last thing he needed was Declan thinking he was weak _and_ crazy.

"And I think now would be a good time to tell you about gravelings." Declan clapped his hands together. "Did you see something that looked like a little scaly, black demon?"

"Yeah!" Kurt was both relieved and disturbed. "What the hell was that?"

"A graveling," Declan explained, "is responsible for setting the conditions for whatever accident is supposed to occur, that is if the conditions aren't already there. For instance, from hearing the details of your death, I doubt a graveling was involved, just a piss-poor batter."

For some reason, Kurt felt a bit of relief that his death hadn't been tainted by what appeared to be a very vile creature.

Declan saw Kurt shudder. "They're nasty little things, but if you can catch them in the act, it can make the job of figuring out the details of your reap a lot easier. What did you see the graveling do?"

"Well, it looked like he moved that chunk of concrete over to the middle of the sidewalk." Kurt replied, pointing to the spot.

"Okay, good, so we know that whatever happens, it's going to involve that. Now, judging by the closeness of the rubble to the road, my guess is that someone is going to come along and trip over it, possibly hitting their head on that concrete planter or maybe even falling into traffic, or…" Declan trailed off, seeing the ashen look on Kurt's face. _Yep,_ he thought, _he is so not ready for this._ He was about to ask Kurt if he was okay when he saw a woman approaching from the left. She was wearing a business suit and high heels and appeared to be in quite a hurry. Declan looked at his watch once more. Less than a minute to go, this had to be the one. "Stay here," he instructed Kurt, and jumped up, jogging over to the woman.

"Miss Keller?" He ventured as he approached. He stuck out his hand, hoping she'd take the bait.

"Yes?" She stopped and furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

"Yeah, it's Richard, um-" Declan was never very good at making stuff up on the spot, no matter how many times he'd done it in the past. "From the bagel shop. Last Thursday? Don't you remember?"

"Oh," The woman looked embarrassed, obviously feeling bad for forgetting 'Richard'. She shook his hand and Kurt, who was watching the whole interaction with a horrible feeling growing in his stomach, saw what looking like a white mist transfer from her hand into Declan's.

"Well, it's good to see you again…Richard," The woman said, "But I really have to get going. I'm late for a meeting."

"Of course," Declan answered as she rushed past him. She was looking back, slightly confused, when she rolled her ankle over the chunk of sidewalk, stumbling into the path of a city bus. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut at the moment of impact and threw his head between his knees, letting out an involuntary scream. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but he could hear people rushing out of stores, screaming for help. Off in the distance, the growing sound of sirens could be heard. Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up with tears streaming down his face to see Declan crouched down beside him.

"C'mon Kurt, let's get out of here." He pulled Kurt up by the upper arm and Kurt made the mistake of looking into the road. The second he saw B. Keller's crumpled, lifeless body his knees buckled. Declan caught him before he hit the ground and tucked his head under Kurt's arm holding onto it with his right hand and wrapping his left around Kurt's thin waist. He could have probably just picked Kurt up and carried him, but he was afraid of arousing too much suspicion. Once they rounded the corner of the next street, Declan untangled himself from Kurt and leaned him against the brick side of the building. Kurt had a faraway look in his eyes and if possible, he was even paler than before. _He's in shock,_ Declan thought, kicking himself for not doing a better job preparing him. _But what could I have done differently?_

"Kurt," Declan shook Kurt's shoulders lightly, gaining no response. He tapped him firmly on the cheek. "Kurt, snap out of it. I'm taking you home and we can talk about this, but you have to walk on your own, I can't carry you." Finally, Kurt made eye contact with Declan and nodded slightly. Declan nodded back and dropped his hands to his sides. Kurt pushed himself off the wall and began walking, almost robotically, alongside Declan. Neither spoke another word until they reached the apartment. Kurt stumbled in, in front of Declan, and collapsed on the couch. Declan sat down next to him.

"Pretty rough, huh?" Declan ventured softly. He was still waiting for the eventual meltdown.

"I can't do this. I don't think I can do this." Kurt began rocking back and forth. "I can't, I can't I can't…" Kurt trailed off, but continued rocking. Declan was at a loss. He could deal with screaming, yelling, throwing things, but this quiet, calm breakdown was foreign to him, and not at all what he expected from the dramatic diva he had taken Kurt for.

"I know it's hard Kurt, it's horrible, but it gets better—not better, I don't mean better." Declan leaned his head down and rubbed his temples. He sounded like a jerk. "I mean, it gets easier. You, you just have to get used to it, that's all."

Kurt slowly turned his head until he was facing Declan and stopped rocking. "Can you just leave me alone?" His voice was bitter and Declan tried not to be hurt by the look of disgust on his face.

"Um, sure. I'll just…I'll just be in the bedroom if you need anything." Declan got up from the couch and with one look back at Kurt, he disappeared down the hallway.

Kurt waited until he was gone before bursting into sobs. _What did I do to deserve this?_ He thought. _I was a good person, I volunteered at the soup kitchen every month, I tried to be nice to everyone, why is this happening to me?_ Kurt felt a sudden twinge of guilt as his mind drifted to B. Keller and her mangled body in the street. _Here I am feeling bad for myself and she was the one who got creamed by the bus. But at least she got to move on. Why her? Why not me?_ Kurt's guilt quickly cycled back into anger and he punched the couch cushion several times before collapsing onto it, his sobs muffled as he buried his face into this unnamed, faceless dead guy's couch. If Kurt had been thinking rationally, he probably would have been completely grossed out at having his face come in contact with any part of the couch, let alone the cushion, where anyone's ass could have been sitting. Kurt was too tired to care and, exhausted by his emotions, he quickly fell into a fitful sleep.

Declan was in the bedroom with his ear pressed up against the door. He heard Kurt crying and fought hard to respect his wishes and give him some privacy. After a few minutes, the sobbing ceased and Declan heard a light snore coming from the living room. He turned around and plopped down on the bed. He too was exhausted by Kurt's emotions and set the beside alarm clock for 5:15 that evening before falling asleep himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Blaine wasn't sure why his fingers were shaking as he sat on his bed, tapping out a text message to Wes. Even more confusing was why he couldn't bring himself to call Wes rather than text him in the first place. Texting just seemed safer to Blaine, and in his mind it gave Wes the option of ignoring him if he was mad at him or blamed him for what happened with Kurt.

_Hey._

After ten minutes of writing and erasing drafts, that was what Blaine finally settled on. He rolled his eyes at himself as he hit 'Send'. Within a matter of seconds, his phone was vibrating; not with a new text message like he was expecting, but with the caller I.D. announcing that Wes was calling him. Blaine drew in a shaky breath and tapped to answer.

"Hello?" He said tentatively.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Blaine could hear Wes exhale loudly into the receiver. "God, Blaine, listen, I—" Blaine sat silently as his friend paused. He could hear little noises on the other end of the phone, which seemed to indicate that Wes was having a hard time forming words.

"I'm sorry," Wes finally continued. "I was just so relieved to hear from you that I dialed your number before I really mapped out what I wanted to say to you."

Blaine felt his heart jump into his throat. All the sudden, the rational part of his brain, which had told him that Wes wouldn't blame him for Kurt's death, had fled the scene and the irrational part of his brain was telling him that Wes was trying to figure out how to tell Blaine that everything was his fault and to never contact him again.

"Blaine, are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry," Blaine mumbled.

"Okay, good," Wes said. He sounded really nervous to Blaine now, which perplexed him. _Shouldn't he sound angry?_ Blaine thought. Wes audibly took a deep breath and continued. "Blaine, I am just…I am so, so sorry. I can't imagine—and yesterday, you looked so…God, this is not coming out at all like I was hoping. Let me start over. Blaine, I just want you to know that I'm here for you, for whatever you need. I can't even begin to imagine how much pain you're in right now, and I have no idea what to say to you, but I need you to know that I'm here for you now and I always will be. Whatever you need from me, I promise to give to you. If you need someone to talk to about all this, even if it's three o'clock in the morning, just please know that you can count on me…I know I'm rambling, but I just need you to know this. I love you like a brother, Blaine, and you really scared me yesterday when you wouldn't talk to us after the service. Are you made at us? Or me?"

"No!" Blaine almost shouted, even startling himself a bit. "I mean, no, how—why, why would you think I was mad at you guys? If anything, you should be mad at me. I—I thought that was why you were calling me, actually."

"Of course we aren't mad at you," Blaine could hear the confusion in Wes' voice. "Why would we be?"

"Because, Kurt…" Blaine tried to finish, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He felt like such a coward, but the emotions of the past week coming to a head today just took all of the energy out of him.

"Blaine, please don't tell me…you're not saying what I think your saying, are you? Blaine?"

Blaine didn't answer.

"How in the world could you think that what happened with Kurt was your fault? Wait, don't answer that," Blaine could hear what sounded like a zipper being pulled up and car keys jangling over the line. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan was dreaming about eating a never-ending bowl of pistachio ice cream when the buzzer from the alarm clock jolted him out of his sleep. He clumsily smacked the bedside table until he finally hit the button on the clock and slowly began dragging himself out of bed. Once he had both feet on the floor, he stretched and, with great effort, lifted his body into a standing position. He had fallen asleep fully dressed again and took a few seconds to straighten his clothes which had twisted around his body awkwardly. Declan was not a peaceful sleeper. He moved and twisted a lot, making anyone who had ever shared a bed with him lucky to escape without a bruised shin or a bloody nose. It wasn't unusual for him to throw a punch in his sleep.

He finally stumbled out into the hallway and into the bathroom, where he emptied his bladder and splashed cold water on his face in a further effort to wake himself up. It was now nearly five-thirty and he and Kurt needed to be at Maggie's by six o'clock to report in with Sue. Kurt, he thought about him for the first time since waking up. _I hope he was able to sleep some of that emotion off._ Declan walked out of the bathroom and back down the hall to where it opened up into the living room. The couch was empty. From his position in the hall, Declan could see the kitchenette and the small dining area and Kurt was occupying neither. He walked to the front door and it was unlocked. Kurt must've gone out. _Crap,_ he thought. _Where the hell did he go?_ Sue would be pissed at Declan for letting him run off and there wasn't any time to go searching for him unless he wanted to be late for the check-in meeting, which was never, ever a good idea. Declan had no choice but to put on his shoes, write a note for Kurt in case he came back, and head out to Maggie's to meet the rest of the group.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

After he hung up the phone with Wes, Blaine headed back downstairs to eat. He was ravenous. Mrs. Anderson watched as he scarfed down the first sandwich she made, quickly followed by the second and she briefly wondered if she should begin working on a third. She thought about reminding him to pace himself again, but she sensed that her son (and her son's stomach for that matter) was in a completely different place now than they had been that morning. It seemed like it had been a week since she had nervously climbed the stairs to Blaine's room and forced him out of it.

"Wes is on his way over," Blaine said with a mouthful of food.

Mrs. Anderson furrowed her brow and looked down at her watch. "It's almost ten o'clock on a school night," she replied. "Why is he coming over so late?"

Blaine shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to freak his mom out any more than he already had earlier, when he alluded to feeling guilty, so he just decided to keep silent.

"Okay, then," She sighed, wiping down the kitchen counter with a rag. "But he can't stay long, I don't want him driving too late at night and I don't want to be responsible for him being exhausted at school tomorrow." She wasn't completely happy about Wes coming over this late, but Blaine needed his friends and was in some small way grateful when she heard the doorbell ring.

Blaine nervously ran his hands up and down the length of his upper thighs, but made no move to stand up from the bar stool. Mrs. Anderson looked curiously at her son before heading to the front door to let Wes inside.

"Mrs. Anderson—" Wes was breathing heavy, like he had run to the house rather than drove.

"Wes, hello," She smiled at him as she opened the door wide to let him in. He stepped into the foyer and she closed the door after him. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm, you know, okay, I suppose—considering, but…." It wasn't like Wes to stutter and he was obviously flustered. Mrs. Anderson put a hand on his shoulder and silently encouraged him to continue.

"I came over because, well, on the phone, Blaine made it seem like…like he felt it was his fault that Kurt…" Wes trailed off, hoping that she understood what he was trying to say, and from the look on her face, he thought she did.

"He does," she lowered her voice and crossed her arms. She felt bad for talking about her son with his friend while Blaine was in the other room, but she needed Wes to help her convince him that he was being ridiculous. "I tried talking to him about it earlier, but he just got angry with me. I don't know what to do about it, but if he keeps thinking that way, it's going to tear him apart." She studied the boy in front of her as he seemed to develop a fresh resolve. He stood up straighter and squared his shoulders before speaking.

"Don't worry Mrs. A," he said reassuringly. "I've got this. And if I need back up, there are at least a dozen guys back at Dalton who can help me convince him. No one blames him for this and we need him to know that."

She smiled at him. When did her son and his friends evolve from little boys to young men? "He's in the kitchen. I'll give you two some privacy, but if you need anything, I'll be in the living room."

Wes nodded once and headed off in the direction of the kitchen. When he entered, he saw Blaine sitting at the kitchen bar, empty plate on the counter in front of him. Blaine's back was to him and Wes tentatively walked up behind him and cleared his throat. "Blaine?" he ventured. The other boy turned to look at him and tried to smile before dissolving into tears. Blaine turned back around and crossed his arms over the counter before laying his head down as sobs racked his frame. Wes stepped closer and placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder, pulling it back. Blaine took the cue and lifted his head, turned his body and threw his arms around Wes's waist. He buried his head into Wes's shirt and clutched tightly to his back, feeling like he was drowning with each sob.

For a moment, Wes was frozen. He had never seen Blaine like this and it took him a moment to move into action. He took his arms, which he had been holding out to either side awkwardly since Blaine had attached himself around Wes' waist and used them to pull Blaine up from the bar stool into a standing position. Blaine complied and adjusted his arms so that they were hugging his friend's upper back and he rested his cheek on Wes' collarbone. Wes wrapped his arms around his friend and held him while he cried.

"Blaine," Wes said quietly after a few minutes. "We need to talk about this. About why you feel the way you do about what happened with Kurt."

"It's my fau—"

"Don't finish that," Wes pushed Blaine back by the shoulders and held him there. "You are smart, Blaine. You're one of the smartest people I know. You have to know that what you're thinking isn't rational. Do you think that Kurt would want you to be feeling this way? Don't you think it would destroy Kurt to see you like this? And to know that you were hurting yourself so badly because of something that happened to him that was completely out of your control?"

Blaine sniffled. He hadn't thought about how Kurt would feel. Regardless of how much he blamed himself, he knew Kurt well enough to know that he wouldn't have blamed him for what happened. In fact, he would probably have been angry at Blaine for entertaining the idea for even a second.

Wes took Blaine's silence as encouragement to continue. "What if the roles were reversed, Blaine," he said gently. "Would you blame Kurt?"

"Of course not," Blaine hung his head and his shoulders dropped under Wes' hands. "I wish it had been me." He said, so softly, Wes almost missed it.

"I don't think Kurt would want you feeling that way either," Wes replied. "I loved Kurt too, he was my friend and I'm devastated over what happened…but I don't want to lose you too. I know you, Blaine, I know that this way of thinking will destroy you if you let it continue."

Blaine thought about what Wes was saying. He was right, of course, both about how Kurt would react if he knew and about letting this thing destroy him.

"You have a responsibility to Kurt, to his memory," Wes continued. "Don't tarnish it by hurting yourself."

Something in Blaine clicked in that moment. It may not have been enough to try to move on from this for himself, but for the sacredness of the memory of Kurt, Blaine would do just about anything. He knew that it wasn't over, that he would still be in pain tomorrow and the day after that, but in those few seconds he felt so much lighter, like life was going to be bearable again someday.

"I get it, Wes," Blaine finally said, eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks for coming over, and…for everything. You're my best friend. But don't tell David." Both boys chuckled and Wes drew Blaine in for a quick embrace.

"I should get going," Wes said, grabbing his car keys off the counter. "But call me if you need too, it doesn't matter when or why, I'll come running."

Blaine began walking him to the door. "Thanks man, you helped a lot tonight. I think I'll be okay, but do you think we could hang out on Saturday?"

"Of course," Wes nodded enthusiastically. He hadn't expected their conversation to go so well after what he heard Blaine say over the phone. "Should I invite the rest of the guys, or…?" Wes trailed off when he saw what looked like a flash of panic in his friend's eyes.

"Maybe just the two of us this time? I don't know if I'm ready for a big crowd just yet." Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling bashful all of the sudden.

"No problem, I totally understand. Night, Blaine." Wes waved as he stepped out the door. Blaine told him goodbye as he shut the door behind him. When he turned around, he saw his mom sitting at the top of the stairs with a slight smile on her face.

"It was good to see him, wasn't it?" Mrs. Anderson asked him as he began climbing the stairs.

"Yeah," he said, sitting down next to her at the top. "He helped put some things into perspective. I'm glad he came over."

"Me too. How's your stomach?"

Blaine looked down at his belly. He hadn't even thought about it. "It's good, surprisingly. I think everything is going to stay put this time."

"Good," she said, sounding relieved. "I think it's time to head to bed, but honey, one more thing."

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I think you should take tomorrow and Friday off from school, but you're going to need to go back on Monday, okay?"

Blaine drew in a deep breath. "I know, Mom."

"Goodnight, Son." She kissed him on the forehead before turning around and going into her bedroom.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan was the last one to arrive at Maggie's. He decided to look in a few places for Kurt on his way over, but he didn't find him. He skidded in the door of the restaurant just as the clock was striking six.

"Cutting it awfully close, Declan, as usual," Sue said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Where's Porcelain?"

"He, um—well, he kind of took off," Declan nervously stuttered as he slid into the booth.

"Let me get this straight," Laura butted in with a smirk, "You had to babysit an eighteen year old for a few hours and you lost him? That's priceless."

"What do you mean, 'he took off?'" Sue said, her tone staying even, but with anger flashing in her eyes. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know," Declan said, shaking his head. "He didn't handle the reaping very well, so I took him back to the apartment and tried to talk to him about it, but he got angry with me and asked me to leave, so I went to my bedroom and…I fell asleep." Declan flinched as Annabel, who was sitting next to him, smacked him across the back of the head.

"I listened on the other side of the door until he fell asleep," He continued defensively. "I thought he just needed to sleep it off and then when I woke up a little while ago he was gone."

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," Sue waved off the waitress as she came over to get their orders. "Annabel, I want you two to go to the cemetery and see if he's out there by his grave or his mother's, they're in the same area. Laura, I want you to go to this address," Sue scribbled down the address to the Hummel residence. "And see if he's lurking around outside. Declan, head back to the apartment and wait for him there. I'm going to go to the park, in case he's decided to take another walk, although considering how the last one turned out, I don't know why he would. If anyone finds him, or if he shows back up at your place, call me. It's not like he can hurt himself out there, but if he is as upset as Declan says he is, I don't want to run the risk of him deciding to go play Casper with his friends or family because his new life isn't fair." Everyone nodded in agreement as they got up from the table, with the exception of Laura, who rolled her eyes and kicked a chair on her way out of the restaurant.

Declan decided to walk past The Lima Bean one more time before heading back to the apartment. He wasn't there. As he climbed the steps to his apartment, Declan prayed that Kurt would be in there, sitting on the couch. He wasn't. Declan plopped down on the couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket, placing it on the coffee table. There was nothing left to do now but wait, either for a call from Sue or for Kurt to walk through the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Kurt didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, but when he opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, it read 4:30, so he must have been out for a couple of hours. When he sat up, he felt a little dizzy, but after a few seconds, he was able to get up and head to the bathroom. He jumped at his own reflection again, still not used to looking like a completely different person. He turned on the cold water faucet and splashed his face a few times before groping around for a hand towel to dry it off. The skin care regimen of his past was completely out the window at this point, and if Kurt was being honest with himself, he didn't miss that aspect of life at all. As Kurt studied his face in the mirror, he could hear snoring coming from the bedroom. _I must have worn him out, too,_ Kurt thought to himself. He felt bad for how he had spoken to Declan when they got back to the apartment. He didn't mean to take it out on him, but Declan had the misfortune of being the only one there when Kurt had his meltdown. Most people probably wouldn't call it that, but anyone who knew Kurt, knew that when he got quiet and shaky that the best thing to do was to leave him alone to sort things out. _Worked like a charm last time,_ he thought bitterly about his last moments among the living.

Kurt took his hands away from his face to pour some water from the sink into a paper cup. His hand went instinctively to his throat as he attempted to swallow for the first time since waking up and it felt like it was on fire. He knew he had been crying pretty hard, but this was ridiculous.

"This is your life now," He told the strange reflection in the mirror. "You better get used to it." He crumpled up the cup, threw it into the bin by the toilet and went back out to the living room. Looking around the strange apartment almost sent him into a fresh wave of tears. Kurt was homesick, and seeing his first reaping today only drove home the point that not only was he dead, he was also doomed to walk the earth for God knows how long helping other people to die and move on, all while having to perform said duties in the same town in which he lived, unable to make any contact with his past life. It was so unfair, Kurt wanted to scream. He had had his whole life ahead of him. NYADA, Blaine, a whole bunch of things left on his stupid bucket list, and it was all ripped away from him. And what about his dad? Kurt couldn't stand to think about his father, having to bury his wife and then his son a decade later. All he wanted to do was go home, knock on his own front door and launch himself into his Dad's arms. The one thing stopping him from doing it was that damn reflection. If only he still looked the same, he kept telling himself.

"I've got to get out of here," Kurt muttered, sitting down on the couch to lace up his boots. In the back of his mind, he knew that he and Declan were supposed to report to Maggie's at six that night, but he wasn't too concerned about Sue at that moment. If he didn't get out of that apartment right that second, he was going to lose his mind and that was more important to him than keeping a dinner date. He briefly considered leaving a note for Declan, but decided escaping with most of his sanity intact was more important. He opened the door and closed it softly after him as he set off on his destination.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time she rolled into Bridgemill Park, Sue had already received text messages from Declan, Annabel and Laura reporting from their respective locations that Kurt wasn't there. She sighed in relief after receiving Laura's text in particular. Sue had been worried that Kurt would go back to his house and try to weasel his way in somehow. The kid wasn't stupid, but he was stubborn and already in the past week, Sue had seen his penchant for impulsive, emotional decisions. It had been awhile since a new reaper had been put under her charge. Declan had been the last in the mid-80's. He hadn't been difficult in this way, though. Unlike Kurt, Declan had been throwing his life away for years, so when he actually did die, it wasn't too much of a shock, and Declan took to the life of a reaper fairly easily, considering the job description. Kurt, on the other hand, had a lot of things going for him and was completely blameless in his death. It was no wonder that he was having a hard time coping with it.

Sue was scanning the walking path as she drove through the upper parking lot. There were several people using it, but none of them Kurt. There were games going on at several of the diamonds, but compared to the night almost a week ago, the park was eerily quiet. As she maneuvered her car down to the lower lot, Sue saw what she had been hoping and expecting to see. Kurt was sitting against a tree trunk near the diamond, the same tree she had drug him to after he died. She smiled to herself as she parked the car and tried to think of the best way to approach the boy. She wasn't ready to give up on her tough love approach, but she sensed he needed something a little deeper, some emotion to match his own. She took a deep breath and turned the car off, pocketing the keys before heading over to where he sat.

Kurt looked up at Sue as she ambled over to him. He was surprised to see her, but he didn't say anything. She didn't look mad like he would have expected. He had, after all, violated her rule about being late to a report meeting and took it a step further by blatantly not showing up.

"Tough day at the office, Porcelain?" Sue asked as she sat down beside him, leaning her back against the tree trunk. Kurt didn't respond. "Listen, I know that all this is hard—"

"It's not fair," Kurt said angrily, cutting her off. "I don't want to do this, it's just …it's not fair." Kurt was at a loss for words. There was just no other way to describe it.

"Yeah, it's not fair, I'll give you that," Sue nodded in agreement. "But you know what? It's still happening. It's still reality. You may be here for a very long time and the sooner you can get over this issue of fairness, the quicker that time is going to go by."

"Really?" Kurt could feel the color rush to his face. He was starting to get angry. "And how do you know that? After all, how long have you been doing this? Since you're in charge, I imagine you've had the most experience, even more than that Sawyer guy and yet you're still here. So tell me, how do you know that time goes by quicker when there's absolutely no end in sight?"

It was Sue's turn to be at a loss. He was right, and for probably the first time in her life and afterlife combined, she had no witty comeback for him. The two sat in silence for several minutes as Sue tried to wrap her mind around what Kurt said.

"You're right," She finally spoke. "I have been doing this for a very long time and I have no idea when my time is up. But I guess the difference between you and me is that I have hope, and I believe that my day will come. Do I expect it tomorrow, or the next day or next year? No, but knowing that it's out there somewhere is enough. Without that hope, I would have gone crazy a long time ago, and sanity or no, whether I like it or not, I have a job to do. A job that's a lot easier to do when you're not psychologically torturing yourself."

Kurt didn't respond. He had no idea how he was supposed to move past what he was feeling. It was too much to absorb, too much to muck through and he was much too exhausted to even know where to start.

"I'll make you a promise, Kurt," Sue spoke again, seeing the battle that was waging war in his mind etched on his face. "I promise to help you get through these first few weeks with your sanity intact, after which, I guarantee things will get better, but you have to promise me something as well."

Kurt turned to look at Sue as she continued. "You have to promise me that you'll trust me. I'll give you all that I've learned from my personal experiences and from helping train other reapers, but it won't amount to anything if you don't trust me and take what I say to heart. Can we agree on that?"

Kurt thought about it for a few seconds. In a way, he didn't really have a choice but to comply, but he liked that Sue was allowing him to verbalize a decision either way. "I'll do my best," He said, giving a slight smile.

"Alright then," Sue stood up and held out a hand to help Kurt up as well. "I want you to make a note of this day and refer back to it as often as needed. Today was the first, only and last day that you are ever going to be let off the hook for missing an evening report meeting. I'm dead serious when I say that if it ever happens again, there will be severe consequences."

"You're dead serious?" Kurt asked with a smirk, which quickly vanished when he saw the look on Sue's face.

"When I drop you off tonight, go ahead and ask Declan what happened when he missed a meeting once," She replied as they reached her car. "Don't be surprised if you have to clean up an accident afterward." Kurt gulped as he slid into the passenger seat. Sue tapped out a message to the group, letting them know she had Kurt and was bringing him back to Declan's and that they were to report at Maggie's at eight the next morning, before starting the car and heading toward Declan's apartment.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan let out a sigh of relief when he got the text message from Sue, saying that she had Kurt and was bringing him back. Now that his worry had dissipated, he could feel anger bubbling inside of him. He almost didn't recognize the feeling—he so rarely became angry, especially in the afterlife. Declan had always been pretty even keel with his emotions, but something about Kurt made him feel spikes in emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. Was it because Kurt was so emotionally charged that he was causing Declan to respond accordingly or was it something else? Declan wasn't sure. Even though it had only been a little more than a day since meeting him, Declan felt a connection with Kurt, something beyond friendship. Thinking about it scared him a little. After all, it had only been a little more than twenty four hours, but in all of his time on Earth, both living and undead, he'd never felt the spark of electricity he felt the few times he had touched Kurt with anyone else.

Declan jumped a bit when he heard the front door open and he stood up to see Kurt walking through the door. He had a bashful look on his face, and Declan knew he was going to have to fight pretty hard to hang on to his anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" Declan said, not quite convincing himself, but by the look on Kurt's face, it did the trick.

"I, uh, went out for a while to clear my head. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Kurt tucked his chin and looked up at Declan, looking like a scolded puppy. Declan was afraid he might melt into a gooey puddle on the floor if he didn't avert his gaze from the younger boy.

"Yeah, well, next time, leave a note…or something," Declan trailed off, all the steam deflating from him.

"Okay," Kurt responded. "Sorry again."

"Okay, so anyway," Declan fumbled. "I'm glad you're back, but I'm going to head to bed." Declan had to get out of that room. Something about his feelings for Kurt changed the minute he walked back in the apartment and he needed to be alone to try to sort them out.

"Well, goodnight then," Kurt called after him. _I guess I'll have to wait to ask him about missing a meeting with Sue,_ he thought as he slumped down on the couch. The clock showed that it was just about eight o'clock, way too early to be tired, but Kurt found himself snuggling up with his blanked and pillow anyway. It wasn't long before his eyelids drooped and he drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Thursday and Friday went pretty smoothly for Kurt, but that was due in large part to the fact that he didn't have to attend any more reapings in those two days. At their Thursday morning meeting, Kurt had been confused when the only post-it note was handed to Annabel and Sue laughed at him.

"What, you think there are exactly three freak accidents and/or murders every day in Lima?" She asked, causing Laura to snicker and Declan to pat his thigh reassuringly. Kurt felt stupid and kept his mouth shut after that, but he couldn't help but notice the flutter in his stomach when Declan's hand made contact with his leg. After their confusing exchange the night before, Kurt had decided there was definitely something going on between he and Declan, but he had no idea what it was. He decided his best course of action was to sit back and take cues from Declan. He was almost certain that whatever was going on wasn't romantic in nature, but letting Declan call the shots, at least for now, seemed to be the safest course of action.

At Friday's meeting, there were two post-it notes, but this time one was given to Laura and the other Sue kept for herself. Laura began making a fuss about how she was being singled out and Declan was yet again, in her opinion, being given free rein to be the pathetic slacker he was. Declan opened his mouth to respond, but Sue shot a look at both of them that ended the exchange. Kurt knew that Sue was purposely giving him a break after the horrible experience he had on Wednesday and he was grateful to her for it. Despite that, he dreaded the fact that at some point, he would have to watch another death, and then another, and another, until it was just business as usual. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to it, but only time and experience would tell. It was reassuring to some extent that the other reapers seemed to be able to take death in stride, but he wondered how long it had taken them to get used to it, and he still didn't know how long each of them had been doing this, nor did he know how they each had died. Kurt was dying to ask them, especially Declan, but something inside of him told him that when he was ready to know, they would tell him.

Not having any reaping duties made learning the ropes at The Lima Bean pretty easy. His manager, Natalie, had worked him hard both Thursday and Friday and promised to do the same on Saturday. When Kurt woke up on Saturday morning, his back was stiff and he wondered what exactly was the advantage of being undead if your body still felt alive and sore. Sleeping on the couch for the past few days wasn't helping of course, and Kurt was eagerly awaiting his first full paycheck so that he could hopefully move into a place of his own. He hadn't brought up the issue of moving out with Declan, but then again, they never really discussed Kurt staying there long term either. After their first meeting, Declan had told Kurt that he should stay with him for the night, but there seemed to be a silent agreement that Kurt could stay there as long as he wanted. Kurt even entertained the idea that Declan wanted him to stay, considering he hadn't asked Kurt what his housing plans were, nor had he offered any advice on how to find a new living arrangement.

Kurt stood up from the couch and stretched before heading to the bathroom for a shower. It was sheer luck that the guy who owned the apartment before he died happened to be about the same height and build as Kurt, giving Kurt access to a fairly decent, although not overly fashionable wardrobe to choose from. Aside from having the ability to move into a place of his own, Kurt was excited to have a paycheck so that he could start building his clothing collection again. He tried not to think about all of his old clothes, which were probably being boxed up and shipped off to Goodwill. If only he could go home and raid his closet. Kurt had to laugh sardonically at the image in his head of breaking into his own home and stealing his clothes. As he turned the faucet off in the shower, he could hear Declan beginning to move about the apartment. He quickly dried off and changed into his work clothes—khaki pants and a simple black tee shirt, before making his way back to the living room. He nodded at a half-asleep Declan as he came stumbling out of the kitchen, carton of orange juice in one hand.

"Cutting it awfully close there, Dec, aren't you?" Kurt asked, glancing at the clock. "We have to be at Maggie's in fifteen minutes." Declan shrugged and took another swig of orange juice before setting the carton down and making his way to the bathroom. Kurt shook his head and smiled as he pulled on his socks and shoes. Declan reappeared a minute later looking slightly more awake and headed for the front door. Kurt grabbed his Lima Bean apron and visor and followed him outside.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt and Declan were last to arrive to the restaurant, but still managed to slide in on time. For the first time since meeting her, Kurt saw Laura without her postal service uniform and he knew that if he was ever able to break through her tough, sarcastic shell, the first thing he was going to do was take her shopping. Her outfit was worse than Rachel Berry's and pre-makeover Carole's combined. _Maybe that's why she's so angry all the time,_ Kurt thought. _Clothing that ill-fitting can't be good for the psyche._ As if she could read his mind, Laura whipped her head to look at Kurt, seemingly shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Kurt quickly averted her gaze and was silently thankful that a table separated them. He had never been so scared of someone in his life.

After their breakfast had arrived, Sue pulled out her day planner and began writing out her notes. From the looks of it, everyone was getting a post-it note today, with the exception of Kurt of course, who knew that he would still be shadowing Declan for a while until he could witness a death without having a nervous breakdown. Sue handed out the notes and Declan put his in-between himself and Kurt so that they could both read it.

_M. Masters_

_Greyhound Bus Station_

_4:32pm_

Kurt breathed a little sigh of relief. At least it was later in the afternoon and he could prepare himself a bit throughout the day. Plus he wouldn't have to leave work early since his shift ended at four. _Work._ Kurt checked his watch and quickly shoveled the last few bites of scrambled egg into his mouth before grabbing his apron and getting up from the table.

"I have to get to work," He announced to the group before turning to Declan. "Pick me up when I get off at four?"

Declan nodded. "See you then," he mumbled with a mouth full of food. Kurt was already walking away when he heard Laura speak.

"So are you two boyfriend and boyfriend now or is this some kind of weird babysitter role play kink you two are experimenting with?" She mocked. Kurt had never been more thankful to be facing the opposite direction as he felt the tips of his ears burning almost immediately. He walked faster, anxious to be out of the door while at the same time wishing he could hear and see Declan's response. Once he was outside, he chanced a glance back through the restaurant window and could see that Declan's face was as red as Kurt's felt. Laura, on the other hand, had a smug, accomplished look on her face. _Great,_ Kurt thought, _he's embarrassed about other people thinking that we might be a couple. Of course he doesn't have feelings for me, look at how uncomfortable he is at the mere suggestion._ Kurt tried to shake it off as he picked up the pace toward the coffee shop. On his way, his mind drifted to Blaine, and the fact that so far, his genius plan to keep tabs on Blaine hadn't worked since Blaine hadn't stepped foot into The Lima Bean in the last few days, at least not while Kurt was working. Kurt worried that maybe Blaine wouldn't go back at all, that perhaps the place where he and Kurt spent so much time would be too painful to revisit. Kurt tried to remind himself that it had only been two days and that Blaine was probably at school the whole time Kurt had been working. If he didn't come in to the shop at all today, then Kurt would worry about it. The whole time he had known Blaine, Blaine never missed a Saturday going to The Lima Bean.

Kurt opened the door to the coffee shop and quickly made his way into the small kitchen to strap on his apron and punch in his timesheet. Already there was a line forming almost to the door and Natalie was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Kurt had just stepped up to the register to begin taking orders, while at the same time wondering when he was going to have the time to mentally prepare himself for another reaping when his heart jumped into his throat before his brain had fully registered why. Coming through the door was Blaine Anderson, followed closely by Wes Montgomery.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The past few days since Wes' visit had been rocky for Blaine, but for the most part, he was improving. He slept in his own bed now, instead of the floor and was able to eat twice a day without getting nauseated. His mom hadn't been letting him stay in his room though, with the exception of using it to sleep. He understood why. His room was a shrine to his and Kurt's relationship. Photos of the two graced every wall and little trinkets and souvenirs from places they had gone together were littered throughout the space. On Thursday, in the middle of the night, Blaine woke up and made his way to the garage, grabbed a staple gun and some drop cloths from his father's work bench and headed back up to his room. Mrs. Anderson came in several minutes later to find her son stapling the drop cloths over his walls, covering the photographs that hung there. The pictures in frames on his dresser and bedside table had already been placed face down. Blaine was crying, but she allowed him to finish covering the walls, even stepping in to help hold the last cloth up as he angrily pushed the staples in. When he was done, he surrendered the staple gun into his mom's waiting hands and crawled back into bed. Mrs. Anderson sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back until he fell asleep again. Once she heard his light snoring, she retired back to her own room. She placed the staple gun on her dresser before sliding into bed, hoping that in the morning, her son would be feeling somewhat better than he obviously was now.

The next morning, Blaine was already in the living room with a bowl of cereal, feet tucked underneath him, watching cartoons when she came down the stairs. He told her good morning as if the bizarre events a few hours earlier hadn't occurred. She decided to take his cue on the issue and didn't bring up the drop cloths. They would talk about it when he was ready, she decided, assuming that the whole incident of waking up in the middle of the night for a home improvement project was a one-time occurrence.

By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Blaine had spoken on the phone with Wes several times, declining his offer to put David or any of the other Warblers on the phone. He felt comfortable with Wes, but the thought of letting others in was just too much for him to deal with right now. True to his word, Wes arrived shortly before ten to pick up Blaine. Wes was shocked when, on the phone the night before, Blaine told him he wanted to go to The Lima Bean.

"Are you sure?" Wes had asked him tentatively over the phone. It was a running joke amongst the Warblers that if you couldn't find Kurt and Blaine, they were either in one of their beds or at The Lima Bean. Wes thought that it would be too painful for Blaine to go back there so soon, but perhaps it would be a good thing for him to get back into a somewhat normal routine. After all, Blaine had been going to the coffee shop long before he met Kurt.

"I'm still sure," Blaine responded as they climbed into Wes' car, after Wes had asked him for what seemed like the millionth time. Blaine was ready to test his boundaries, and he felt that if he could survive a trip to The Lima Bean, he could survive what would prove to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever have to do: going back to McKinley on Monday. He tried not to dwell on it too much, he didn't want to think about the pitying looks from teachers and classmates, the awkward exchanges that were sure to happen among the members of the New Directions…he would just have to take it an hour, a minute, a second at a time.

As Wes parked the car, Blaine could see that the coffee shop was already packed. He looked at his watch and knew that within a matter of twenty minutes, it would be near empty again and he and Wes could sit and talk for as long as he wanted. Blaine knew the ebb and flow of traffic in the coffee shop on Saturdays like the back of his hand. He wasn't crazy about going in when it was so crowded, but he was comforted by the fact that it wouldn't be that way for long.

"You ready?" Wes asked him. They were standing outside the front door now and Blaine was thankful that Wes was letting him have control over when they entered. Blaine took a deep breath before stepping forward.

"I'm ready."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine looked better than he had a few days ago after the funeral. Not great, but definitely less tired and less hollow. Wes was standing close, almost protectively as the two made their way to the back of the line. Kurt was craning his neck to keep studying Blaine when he was interrupted from his thoughts.

"Excuse me?" The angry, middle-aged woman standing in front of his register practically yelled at him. "Are you going to take my order or just stand there looking dumb?"

Natalie, who was working the register next to him and simultaneously making drinks stepped over. "Is there a problem, Trevor?" She was glaring at the customer. It had only been a few days since she had hired "Trevor" but she had taken an instant liking to him and was willing to stand up for him against a rude, entitled customer.

"No, no problem, " Kurt half smiled. "I'm sorry about that ma'am, what can I get for you today?" Natalie gave him one last look before heading back to her register. Kurt mechanically entered the order into the computer and finished the transaction with the woman, all while letting his gaze drift over to Blaine. He somehow made it through the next few orders and felt like he was going to puke when Blaine and Wes ended up in his line. As he finished up the last order and Blaine and Wes stepped up to the counter, Kurt had to grip the sides of his register to keep from falling to the ground.

"C-can I help you?" Kurt stuttered, presumably to the both of them, but his eyes remained fixed on Blaine. Blaine looked over to Wes.

"I'll have a large non-fat mocha, hold the whipped cream," Wes said, starting to pull out his wallet. "And whatever he wants," He added, indicating to Blaine.

"Medium drip," Kurt spoke before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea. Blaine's eyes shot up to meet Kurt's before travelling down his chest to look at his nametag.

"Yeah," Blaine answered, looking confused. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No, I—" Crap, Kurt thought, scrambling in his mind for an excuse. "You just…look like a medium drip guy," he finished lamely with a lopsided smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wes shooting a skeptical and somewhat protective glare at Kurt before handing his credit card to him. Kurt took the card and ran it through the machine before handing it back to Wes. For the first time since he came up with this harebrained idea, he was starting to think he'd made a big mistake. What made him think he could pull this off? At the same time, he felt so relieved that Blaine was looking better and had at least reached out to one friend, who seemed to be taking on the task very seriously with a great deal of protectiveness. Kurt groaned as he heard Wes speak to Blaine as they headed off to a table with their coffees.

"I think that guy was hitting on you."

Kurt didn't wait for a response from Blaine before heading back to the kitchen, telling Natalie he needed check on his grandma.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't think so," Blaine responded to Wes as they sat down at a table in the corner farthest from the front counter. "Although he was acting a bit strange. He seemed so familiar, but I can't think of where I know him from."

"Does he go to McKinley?" Wes asked, taking a tentative sip from his steaming cup.

"I don't know," Blaine answered. "Maybe." But that didn't seem right. It wasn't exactly that his face was familiar, it was just something about him. Blaine tried to shake the thought from his mind as he saw the guy, Trevor, reappear from the kitchen, face slightly less red than when he had taken Blaine's coffee order. It was in that moment that Blaine's breath caught in his throat and he realized that he hadn't thought about Kurt once in the ten minutes since they walked in the door. He felt immediately guilty, like he had insulted Kurt's memory, but he took a few deep breaths and told himself that it was probably a good thing, a measure of progress.

Wes noticed the change on Blaine's face and watched as his friend appeared to try to calm himself down. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just…thinking about Kurt and how the pain isn't as sharp as it was yesterday," Blaine said, feeling guilty all over again.

"Hey," Wes spoke gently, reaching a hand out and placing it on his friend's shoulder. "That's a good thing. Kurt would want that."

Blaine nodded. Wes was right, of course, but it was going to be hard to remind himself of that. Blaine took one more look at the new guy behind the counter before returning his attention to Wes. The two sat there for several hours talking before deciding to head back to Blaine's house. As they walked out the door, Blaine turned back to the counter to see Trevor watching him with an almost wistful look. Before he knew what he was doing, Blaine raised his hand and offered a slight wave. Something flickered in the other boy's eyes as he slowly mirrored Blaine's gesture. Blaine held his gaze for a second longer before following Wes outside.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As soon as the door shut after Blaine, Kurt let out a huge rush of air that he didn't know he had been holding. He brought a shaky right hand to his mouth while his left was stuck in a mid-air wave to the boy he still loved.

Watching Blaine sitting in the corner of the coffee shop for nearly two hours, talking with Wes had been torturous for Kurt. At one point, Kurt watched as Blaine hunched over the table, shoulders trembling ever so softly, while Wes patted his back. It took everything Kurt had not to rush over, kneel down by his side and place his head in Blaine's lap. He wanted to tell Blaine that it was okay, everything would get better, but he knew how that would look. Wes would probably tackle him and he would definitely get fired, on top of the fact that, from Blaine's point of view, he would have been assaulted by a complete stranger who knew his coffee order.

Another time, near the end of their visit, Blaine laughed at something Wes was telling him. It wasn't a typical Blaine laugh. It was a soft, brief chuckle that ended with a whisper of a smile. Anyone objectively looking in on the conversation may not have even called it a laugh, but to Kurt it was everything. To Kurt, it was hope that Blaine would be alright eventually. But even this made him sad, because he knew he could never be a part of Blaine's life again. He could never be the one to make him smile and laugh like that. The only thing Kurt could do now was make Blaine cry, suffering with the memory of what he lost when Kurt died.

It was in that moment of realization that Kurt kicked himself for not thinking through this plan. Sure, he'd thought all about how to charm his way into a job at The Lima Bean so he could keep an eye on Blaine. He thought about how he could watch Blaine and make sure he was happy and taking care of himself. He even allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to build a friendship with Blaine as Trevor.

The one thing Kurt didn't prepare for was how it would make himself feel. He had no idea that watching Blaine from such a short distance across an unbelievably deep chasm would make him feel like he was dying all over again. That every breath he watched Blaine draw in, every twisting of his mouth as he spoke, every movement of his eyebrows or hands or feet or neck would hit Kurt like a bullet.

It was all too much. But at the same time, the instant Blaine was gone from the shop, Kurt needed him back. He needed to see him again and he knew that he would rather suffer watching Blaine as he did all morning for the rest of his life then deal with the possibility of never seeing his love again.

"Trevor?"

Kurt turned his head slowly to a hesitant-looking Natalie. _Please tell me that she hasn't been standing here trying to get my attention,_ Kurt silently pleaded.

"Are you okay? I've said your name, like, three times trying to get your attention," She said, sounding worried.

_Damn it,_ Kurt thought as he tried his best to hide the emotion from his face. Kurt could tell it wasn't working from the look on her face. Why was he always so bad at hiding his emotions?

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kurt answered. "Just zoned out for a minute."

"A minute?" Natalie replied, moving her hands to her hips but maintaining a gentle tone. "Trevor, you've been zoned out pretty much since you got here this morning. I know you just started and you're still learning how to do everything, but is there something going on that I need to know about?"

Kurt opened his mouth to reply. He felt a wave of guilt rush over him as he took in the frazzled appearance of his manager. "Natalie, I'm sorry," He shook his head. "I know you took a chance on me by hiring me right off and I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of your generosity."

Natalie averted her eyes, but didn't say anything, so Kurt continued.

"I promise you I'll do better," He said before flashing her one of his biggest and hopefully most persuasive smiles. "I will be the best employee you've ever had and you won't ever regret hiring me…with today being the first, last and only exception."

It must have worked, because Natalie dropped her arms to the side and returned Kurt's smile. "Alright then," she said, grabbing a damp cloth and handing it to Kurt. "Why don't you get to work on that counter? Impress me with how shiny you can make it." Kurt grabbed the cloth and began scrubbing the brushed metal surface.

As soon as Natalie turned back to her register and Kurt was out of her line of vision, his shoulders slumped and his smile disappeared. Putting on that cheerful persona for the past thirty seconds had all but worn Kurt out. _You'll get better at it,_ he told himself. _Just like reaping, you'll get used to it and then it will be okay._

The fact was, Kurt was starting to believe that it was going to get better. His talk with Sue at the park a few nights earlier had helped him put things into perspective. He knew from life experience that even the toughest things get easier eventually. He never would have made it through (well, almost through) high school, if he hadn't believed in that light at the end of the tunnel. He could get through this, he just needed that Kurt Hummel determination to do it. And Kurt was nothing if not determined, especially when Blaine's livelihood was involved.

The rest of his shift went by smoothly. Kurt worked twice as hard as he had that morning and during his two previous shifts, which he didn't know was even possible. When he saw the approving look on Natalie's face though, he knew the hard work was worth it. He needed to keep this job and in order to do that, he needed to keep his boss happy, even if it meant running himself ragged.

_It's not like I can drop dead from exhaustion,_ Kurt thought, smiling. He was definitely starting to develop a macabre humor about his situation and he was beginning to realize that Sue's approach to being undead made a lot of sense to him. It was probably what kept her going after all these years of rote responsibility and uncertainty about the future.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Declan walk through the door later that afternoon. He looked at the time on his register and saw that he only had about five minutes left in his shift. Declan approached the counter just as Kurt was finishing up with a customer.

"Hello sir," Kurt greeted him with mock formality. "Can I interest you in one of our specialty iced coffees?"

Declan chuckled. "No thanks, I don't like to drink and reap."

Kurt's face fell slightly. _Oh yeah,_ he thought. _How could I forget?_ For the second time, Kurt had been focusing so much on the Blaine situation that he hadn't put a lot of thought into the reaping. Declan noticed the change in Kurt's features. He leaned slightly over the counter and lowered his voice.

"It's going to be fine," He said reassuringly. "It'll still be hard, but it will be easier than the last one, okay?"

Kurt nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, exhaling heavily.

"You ready?" Declan asked, straightening back up.

"Yeah, just let me grab my stuff from the back," Kurt replied, untying his apron. He told Natalie goodbye and headed to the kitchen clock out. As he slid his time card back in the slot labeled "Trevor," he did his best to mentally prepare himself. A twinkle of his old confidence was emerging, slowly. It was no longer the feeling of false bravado washing over him. It was like something was finally starting to click, and he was beginning to think that his brief interaction with Blaine earlier in the day was way harder than any reaping was going to be. At least, he hoped that was the case.

Kurt stepped over to the sink near the time clock and looked at his new reflection in the mirror. He rolled his shoulders back and put his game face on. One way or another, he was going to make it, he decided. After all, he was Kurt Hummel and there was nothing he couldn't do. He gave himself a short nod before turning around and heading out the door to leave with Declan.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Blaine stood in his driveway as Wes pulled out, waving at his friend and offering a slight smile. Wes returned the wave and stopped at the end of the driveway, rolling down his window. He motioned for Blaine to come closer. Blaine half jogged to the car, the most active he'd been in the past week, plus. He even surprised himself a bit with the action.

"What's up?" Blaine asked as he reached the driver's side window.

"Listen," Wes started, leaning his forearm in the windowsill. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" Blaine asked, perplexed. If anything, he should be thanking Wes for helping him to feel somewhat normal again, at least for the afternoon. The visit to The Lima Bean had been rough, but not nearly as much as Blaine had expected. He knew that it was in large part due to Wes' easy going and compassionate presence. If he had gone by himself (which he had briefly contemplated a few days prior), he would have been a complete wreck, but every time he started to feel like he was going to panic or burst into tears, Wes was right there, saying something reassuring or just offering a gentle touch.

"For letting me in," Wes said, wanting to leave it at that, but recognizing that the look on Blaine's face meant that he was going to have to offer a bit more of an explanation. "You trusted me enough to allow me to be here for you, to share in your grief and to at least try to help you feel like yourself again. I'm honored that you let me do that for you."

Blaine could feel the color rising in his cheeks. He appreciated what Wes was telling him, but it embarrassed him that Wes felt the way he did. Blaine felt like he'd been a burden to Wes the last few days—calling him constantly, even when he knew Wes was in class, taking up his almost his whole Saturday to sit in the back corner of The Lima Bean while Blaine went on and on about different little things…Blaine almost felt like he was using Wes, considering the fact that he refused to talk to any of his other friends. At the same time, Wes' sentiments eased his mind a bit and he was beginning to realize that he'd won the friend lottery when it came to Wes.

"Well, um," Blaine stuttered, searching for the right words. "Of course I trust you, and-and thank you, for you know…" Blaine trailed off, dropping his head and chuckling lightly at his inability to form a decent response to what Wes had just told him. He lifted his head again to find Wes smiling at him.

"Thank you, Wes," Blaine started over, looking his friend straight in the eyes. "You've been incredible over the past few days and you've helped me so much."

"Anytime, friend," Wes replied. "You know I'm just a phone call away." He started to pull on his seatbelt and moved to put the car in reverse when Blaine stopped him, placing his hand on the still-open windowsill.

"Hey, listen," Blaine started. All of the sudden, he was feeling nervous. "Do you think that maybe next weekend I could come up to Dalton? Maybe it's time I start taking some of the 'only friend' pressure off of you."

Wes broke out into a huge grin, the likes of which Blaine had never seen from his usually reserved friend.

"You know I don't mind you calling me whenever you need me," Wes answered. "But I do think it would be a great idea for you to start letting some of the guys back into your life. They miss you, and to be honest, they're kind of jealous that I've had you all to myself the past few days."

"Well, I'm sure it's been no picnic for you," Blaine said. "But tell them I'm looking forward to seeing them next week." With that, Blaine backed up from the car and waved goodbye. He stood there until Wes' car was out of sight and then made his way back into the house. He found a note on the kitchen table from his mom, stating that she was out running some errands and would be back around seven.

Blaine glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It was almost five now. After leaving the coffee shop, Wes and Blaine had come back to the house and watched television for a few hours before Wes had to leave for a Warbler practice. Blaine had shaken his head when Wes told him that, remembering the dedication of the Warblers and how the efforts of the New Directions often paled in comparison.

Blaine knew the two groups had completely different styles, both in how they sounded and how they performed best. He missed the regiment and camaraderie of his former group but loved the spontaneous, free-spirited nature of the New Directions. Blaine remembered with a slight ache in his chest that his favorite part about both groups had always been Kurt, since the day he met him.

Thankfully, before he could dwell too long on that particular subject, Blaine felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. It was either going to be Wes or his mom, he figured, probably his mom since Wes just left a few minutes prior. But when he pulled the phone out, he was surprised to see Finn's name plastered across the screen. He hesitated until the last moment before it went to voicemail to answer it.

"Hello?" He answered tentatively.

"Blaine?" He heard Finn's shaky voice reply. "It's Finn. I, um…I'm sorry to bother you, I just—sorry, forget it." Blaine heard a rustling on the other end before a long beep indicated that the call had been dropped.

_That was weird,_ Blaine thought to himself, staring at the phone for a few seconds before scrolling through his phone to find Finn's number. He hit send and waited for the phone to start ringing. After the second ring, Blaine could tell that Finn had answered the phone, he could hear him breathing shakily but he didn't speak.

"Finn, is everything okay?" Blaine asked without thinking. Of course everything wasn't okay. Even if the events of the past week and a half hadn't have happened, Blaine could have determined from Finn's voice and lack of ability to form a complete sentence that everything was not okay with him. There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

"I just…didn't know who else to call and," Finn paused again and Blaine waited patiently. "Would it be okay if I came over for a little while? I don't know where else to go."

"Yeah, of course," Blaine answered immediately, worried by the sound of the other boy. "Finn, you're somewhere safe right? Do you need me to pick you up?" It was weird how Blaine had flip-flopped roles from just the previous hour. All day, all week even, he had been the vulnerable one, the one needing shelter and protection, and now, just hearing the broken boy on the other end of the phone, Blaine had transformed into the protector.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," He detected a hint of relief in Finn's voice. "I just really, really need to get out of this house." Blaine drew in a breath. It had been hard staying in his own house with all the memories of Kurt all over his room, so hard that he still had his walls covered in the drop cloths, but he hadn't even thought about how hard it must have been for Kurt's family to be in the place where Kurt had actually lived.

"No problem," Blaine finally answered. "Do you remember how to get to my house?" Finn had dropped Kurt off once or twice when he was borrowing Kurt's car to take Rachel out on a date, but he wasn't sure how familiar Finn was with getting there without Kurt telling him which way to go.

"Yeah, I think so," Finn answered. Blaine could hear shuffling over the phone and it sounded like Finn was already in the process of making his way over. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay, see you soon," Blaine answered before ending the call. He went to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. He took a long swig, emptying half the glass before placing it back on the counter. He wasn't sure if he was ready for what was coming with Finn, but he tried his best to steel himself for whatever was going to happen. After all, he needed to get his feet wet dealing with this part of his life, since he was going to be returning to McKinley on Monday morning.

He felt worry growing in the pit of his stomach as he realized he had no idea how to comfort someone who had lost their brother in a freak accident. But then again, he figured Finn was probably worried about how to comfort someone who had lost their best friend, lover and soul mate. _I guess we'll figure it out together,_ he thought with a sigh as he heard his doorbell ring. He must have spaced out at the sink because a full ten minutes had passed since he ended the call with Finn. Even so, the drive between the two houses usually took twice that long, so Finn must not have been kidding when he said he needed to get out of the house.

Blaine made his way to the front door. Through the beveled glass he could see Finn's hunched figure, face turned downward and to the side. He took one last deep breath before slowly opening the door.

"Hey," Blaine greeted him softly, opening the door wide. "Come in."

Finn barely looked up as he made his way through the door without a word. Blaine closed the door and motioned for Finn to follow him to the living room.

"Sit down," he offered, motioning to the couch. "Can I get you anything, a glass of water or a Coke?" Finn shook his head. To Blaine, he looked like he was about to burst into tears and maybe that's why he hadn't spoken yet. Blaine didn't know whether he should sit next to Finn on the couch or across from him on the loveseat. He settled for pulling his mom's rocking chair to the couch, close enough to reach out and touch Finn, but allowing him space on the couch in case Finn needed it.

The two sat in silence for several minutes. Blaine kept glancing at Finn, hoping he would speak, but he was just staring off, eyes darting around the room every now and then, but never seeming to focus on any one particular thing. When Finn started to rock back and forth, head in his hands, Blaine finally cleared his throat to speak again.

"Finn—"

"I can't handle it anymore," Finn cut him off, hands no longer resting on his head, but clenching his hair so tightly that Blaine could see his knuckles pulsating pink and white. "That house is so fucking sad. They won't stop crying and I can't do anything to fix it. He's everywhere in that house and I can't do it anymore. I just can't." Blaine reached out a hand and placed it on Finn's knee, but Finn jerked his knee out from underneath and shifted away from Blaine on the couch, dropping his head in his laps as deep sobs rose from his chest.

Blaine sat there frozen, hand still stretched out, drawn back only slightly from the jolt of Finn's reaction to his touch. His own vision began to swim as he watched Finn losing it. Not knowing quite what to do, he stood up and mumbled, "I'll be right back," before leaving the living room and heading for the kitchen. He braced himself against the kitchen sink for a moment, eyes closed and fighting off the fresh tears, before turning around and refilling his own glass of water and another for Finn. He found a box of tissues on the far side of the counter and tucked it under his arm, grabbed both glasses and headed back to the living room.

Finn hadn't changed positions on the couch and Blaine wondered briefly if he had even noticed Blaine's absence. Blaine placed Finn's glass of water on the coffee table and gingerly slid it toward the boy. He placed the tissues down beside it. As Blaine was settling back down in the rocker, Finn reached for a tissue and began wiping his nose, without making eye contact with Blaine. As his breathing slowly returned to a somewhat even rate, Finn picked up the glass in front of him and took a tiny sip.

"Thanks," Finn spoke quietly. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't worry about it," Blaine cut him off, hoping he sounded comforting. "I totally understand."

Finn nodded. "I know. That's kind of why I wanted to come over," Finn finally reestablished eye contact with Blaine, and Blaine nodded, silently encouraging him to continue. "I can't talk to Mom and Burt because they are just so…sad, and—and Rachel, I mean, she tries and everything, but she looks so scared every time she comes over, like she's afraid I'm going to hit her or something and I can just tell she is so uncomfortable around me. I don't want to put her through that, so I've just been holding everything in, but it's too much. It's too much for just me to handle."

Blaine stayed quiet, but continued to offer reassuring nods, not quite knowing what to say. Finn continued to ramble on, pausing only briefly to sip his water or wipe his face.

"And it just feels like Kurt is everywhere," Finn continued. "Like he's right around the corner or like he just left the room to go fix his hair or grab a Diet Coke but he never comes back, so there's always this feeling of anticipation and hope that goes unfulfilled and I know Burt and my mom feel it too. Like last night I thought I heard a noise coming from Kurt's room so I got up to check because I was half asleep and for a minute I thought it was Kurt in there and something was wrong, but when I got to the door, Burt was just lying in Kurt's bed, wrapped up in his blankets and just crying. My mom was sitting outside the door crying too and I just didn't know what to do. I just stood there, looking stupid because I'm fucking 18 years old and I can't deal with this shit."

Blaine straightened up a bit as he saw the anger flash in Finn's eyes. He didn't want to say anything that would set Finn off, but he also didn't want to give him the impression that he was scared of Finn, like Rachel had obviously done.

"Of course you can't," Blaine finally settled on saying. "You've never had to deal with anything like this before. And parents are supposed to be the ones comforting the kids, not the other way around."

"Exactly," Finn answered, nodding vigorously, obviously bolstered by the fact that someone finally seemed to understand what he was going through. "But then I feel terrible, because how awful is it to lose a kid? Especially for my mom and Burt who have both had to bury a spouse. I'm just so…conflicted."

Blaine drew in a deep breath before answering. "I think that's normal, feeling conflicted I mean. And guilty, I suppose. I've been feeling it too, along with just about every other emotion in the book over the last week and a half."

"And then to top it all off, I have to go back to school on Monday and I just don't want to have to deal with everyone acting like Rachel, all pitying me and scared of my reactions at the same time."

"You haven't gone back yet?" Blaine felt bad about the wave of relief that washed over him as he realized that there would be someone else there on Monday to share the burden of awkward glances and exchanges amongst their classmates. "Me neither, but I'm going back on Monday too." Blaine felt slightly better about his immediate reaction after he glanced up and saw the same emotions playing behind Finn's eyes.

"What do you say we stick together on Monday?" Blaine ventured. "You know, strength in numbers?"

For the first time, Finn offered one of his patented lopsided smiles, albeit a small one. "I'd like that."

The two boys sat in silence for a while, neither knowing where to take the conversation next. After some time, Blaine heard the garage door opened and he excused himself to go meet his mother as she walked from the garage through the mud room.

"Hey mom," he greeted her with a hug. He could feel his mother melt into his embrace. The relief she felt at having a glimpse of her thoughtful, loving son back was palpable. "Listen, Finn Hudson is here and—"

"Finn Hu—Kurt's brother?" Mrs. Anderson's face transformed from confused to shocked as she realized who her son was talking about.

"Yeah, he just needed to get out of the house and to talk to someone," Blaine said quietly. He didn't want Finn to overhear the conversation, fearing it would make the boy feel more uncomfortable than he already did. "Would it be okay if I offered for him to spend the night?"

"Of course, sweetheart," she smiled at him. "It would probably do you both some good."

Blaine gave her another quick hug and a peck on the cheek. "Thanks mom, and one more thing. He's pretty upset about how people have been reacting to him, you know, pitying him and walking on eggshells, so could you, you know, act normal around him?" He stammered, blushing slightly at asking what would be in any other circumstance, a ridiculous request.

Mrs. Anderson laughed softly. The question sounding silly, but she understood what her son meant. She moved past her son and made her way to the living room where she saw a tall, handsome, but young looking man, sniffling quietly, sitting on her couch.

"Hi Finn," She sat in the rocking chair, introducing herself with a measured smile as she fought hard to keep her motherly instincts at bay, which were shouting at her to wrap the boy in her arms and rock him until he felt better. "I'm Blaine's mom. I just wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome to stay the night if you'd like. The guest room is made up or if you want to bunk with Blaine, that's okay too. Just make yourself at home."

"Thanks Mom—I mean, Mrs. Anderson," Finn blushed furiously at the slip up, which only broke her heart even more. _He must feel so lonely right now,_ she thought. _Eighteen year olds don't usually make that mistake._

"Of course," she answered. "And feel free to call me anything you're comfortable with. Even Mom," she stood up from the rocker and patted Blaine, who was standing behind the chair, on the shoulder. "I'm going to head up and take a shower. Why don't you boys order a pizza, I'm sure you're starving." Despite his embarrassment, Finn perked up at that. They had been reheating casseroles brought over by neighbors for a week at the Hummel-Hudson residence. Finn was so sick of poppy seed chicken he couldn't imagine having to choke it down for one more night.

"Thanks Mom, that sounds good," Blaine said, noting Finn's reaction. Mrs. Anderson disappeared up the stairs and within a few seconds he could hear the water in her bathroom running.

"Pepperoni?" Blaine asked.

"Can we make it two?" Finn asked. Blaine smiled and pulled out his cellphone. Before he started dialing, he turned back to Finn.

"You know she means it," He said. A confused look fell over Finn's face. "You can call her Mom if you want. Kurt did." Blaine didn't wait for a response as he walked into the kitchen and dialed the number for the pizza place right up the road.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Declan had no idea what his problem was. Never could he remember not being able to fall asleep pretty much as soon as his head hit the pillow. Yet, here he was, nearly three o'clock in the morning and completely wide awake.

It was starting to piss him off, actually. In a few short hours he would have to be out of bed and headed over to Maggie's for the daily report meeting and if it was one thing that Declan didn't handle well, it was drowsiness. He so rarely dealt with it, but the few times he could remember, he had been completely out of it, snapping at people, even breaking down in the middle of a reaping on one occasion. That had been the worst, especially since by that time he'd been a reaper for at least half a decade.

Declan was completely wired, but he had no idea why. The day had gone pretty well, considering that Kurt actually made it through his second reaping without losing it completely. The death had been fairly mild compared to the bus accident a few days prior. Kurt was able to stay by Declan for the entire process and this time, he witnessed the send-off, which was a vast improvement from the first time.

Afterward, the two sat down in the lobby of the bus station and talked about the reaping. Declan could tell that Kurt was upset and trying very hard to keep his feelings in check, and his eyes stayed glassy for most of the conversation, but he never let his tears fall. He even smiled once or twice. Declan was proud of him, but something was nagging at him. There was a definite change in the younger boy since he left Maggie's that morning. He could tell something was different in Kurt when he arrived at the coffee shop to pick him up. It was almost like, over the course of a few hours, Kurt had developed a steely resolve, a new outlook or something, and he wasn't going to play the victim anymore.

Under normal circumstances, he would have prided himself in helping Kurt finally start to adjust to his new life, but Declan knew this had to have something to do with his shift at The Lima Bean and the only logical conclusion was that Kurt had somehow interacted with his old life. There was really no other explanation he could think of and it was driving Declan mad.

He knew that he shouldn't have gone along with Kurt's plan to work at the very place he used to hang out, but he really wanted to give Kurt the benefit of the doubt. If this didn't work out, Declan knew his ass was on the line with Sue just as much as Kurt's, if not more since he was a veteran and should have known better.

That's why Declan had taken it upon himself to check up on Kurt several times during his shift that day. Twice, he merely walked by the shop, slowing down enough to spot Kurt and monitor his actions. The third time, he actually went in and sat down at a table close to the door. He wasn't planning on going in, but what he saw during his first two walk-bys intrigued him. Both times, he spotted Kurt near the register, staring in the direction of the back, left-hand corner and hardly moving. And both times, the same customers were sitting at that table, apparently oblivious to Kurt's attention. Declan wasn't necessarily the brightest person in the world, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that at least one of the boys sitting at the small, round table was related to Kurt's life somehow.

On his third trip, Declan made the last minute decision to go in and sit down, after witnessing through the window the same scene from the hour before. He sat for a while, watching Kurt take the occasional coffee order, appearing distracted as ever. After about twenty minutes, the couple at the table began gathering their things and heading for the door.

Declan watched carefully, eyes darting between the boys and Kurt, wanting to see what Kurt's reaction would be. The taller, Asian boy stepped out first and began making his way down the sidewalk, but the shorter boy hesitated in the doorway for a moment before turning around to look at Kurt. Declan tried to read the expression in his face, but before he could think too hard about it, the boy was raising his hand in a slight wave to Kurt. Declan whipped his gaze around to Kurt, who looked stunned for a moment before waving back.

For a few minutes after the boys left, Declan watched as Kurt remained frozen in place. It wasn't until his manager came and snapped her fingers in front of his nose that Kurt finally snapped out of it. Declan took the opportunity to head out while she had his attention and the fact that he had been sitting in the coffee shop for almost a half hour without Kurt even realizing it didn't escape him.

He knew he would have to talk to Kurt about the incident at some point soon, but Declan decided that today wasn't the day to do it, not when Kurt had to deal with another reaping. But when would he be able to do it? Kurt was off from work the next day, but unless it was a light reaping day (which, for some unexplained reason, Sundays never were), there would be another soul to take. Even though he had done very well during the reaping earlier, Declan wasn't quite ready to mess with it by adding a confrontational conversation to the day.

It was at this point that Declan realized he had been thinking about Kurt since his head hit the pillow and he silently cursed the boy for being the root of his insomnia. He tossed over from his left side to his right and with a groan, he saw the digital alarm clock on the bedside table read 4:03. That was it, he wasn't going to get any sleep, not until he talked to Kurt about the whole thing.

He felt somewhat bad for what he was about to do by waking the boy up in the early hours of the morning, but then he remembered that Kurt was the whole reason he was even up this late and his guilt was assuaged. Declan sat up in bed and rolled his neck around a few times before swinging his lower body around and placing his feet on the floor. His eyes adjusting to the dark long before, he didn't bother flipping on the light switch as he stumbled out into the hallway.

As he made his way into the living room, he could see Kurt's form on the couch, body and face highlighted by the light of the street lamp streaming in through the window. It was the first time Declan had seen him sleeping since they met and the sight of him took Declan's breath away for a moment. Kurt looked so peaceful lying there, his features relaxed and a light smile playing on his lips. It was nothing like the furrowed brow and downturned mouth that Kurt seemed to almost constantly wear when he was conscious. He looked almost angelic to Declan, who was frozen in place, observing Kurt. He looked almost…sexy. Declan felt a stirring deep in his stomach as soon as the thought entered his mind. Now he couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt, letting them travel slowly up and down his body, which was covered by a light blanket that draped nicely over his features.

_Oh my God, what am I doing?_ Declan asked himself as he realized he had been staring at Kurt for several minutes. Declan knew that he liked Kurt from the moment he met him, but not like this. He thought of him as a friend, someone to take under his wing and be a trusted confidant, not a romantic interest. It had been a long time since Declan had been involved with anyone and the speed at which his mind was racing through different scenarios involving Kurt scared him.

_I gotta get out of here,_ Declan thought, shaking his head. _I can't do this right now._ He abandoned his plan to wake Kurt up, hastily turned on his heels to head back to the bedroom and promptly tripped over the oriental rug, landing with a resounding thud against the coffee table. Declan winced as Kurt let out a garbled shriek.

"What the—Declan?" Kurt was sitting up now, wearing a startled look that was quickly transforming into one of confusion. "Is that you? What are you doing?"

"I uh—um, I just came out to get a glass of water," He mumbled, standing up and rubbing his elbow where it landed in the table.

"Via the living room?" Kurt asked, his confused expression now transforming into annoyance. "What time is it? Why are you awake? And how long have you been in here?"

The rate at which Kurt could fly through questions after having just woken up thirty seconds prior astounded Declan. He had no idea where to start or what to say to make Kurt believe he wasn't a creeper, watching him in his sleep.

"It's about four o'clock, I couldn't sleep and about five minutes," Well, so much for making up a believable story, Declan thought. Both a gift and a curse, when Declan was put on the spot, he almost always panicked and came out with the truth, no matter how embarrassing. But at least Kurt was awake now and there was really no reason why Declan couldn't talk to him about what happened the day before.

"Were you watching me?" Kurt asked, his face wrinkling up into an expression that, in any other situation, Declan would have found adorable, but at this exact moment, it was terrifying.

"Yeah, but no…well, yes but, you see—"

"Spit it out, Declan, you interrupted my beauty rest and I'd kinda like to get back to it."

"Okay, listen," Declan began again. He sat back down on the floor, cross-legged. "I need to talk to you about something and I was going to wait, but it was keeping me awake thinking about it, so I came out here so we could talk."

"At four in the morning?" Kurt asked with a defeated sigh. He was sitting up against the couch now.

"Yeah, well, sorry about the timing but it's important," Declan said, rubbing his hands together nervously. He sat there for a few moments watching Kurt and waiting for a response from the boy.

"Well?" Kurt finally said, impatiently. Boy, was Declan acting shifty.

Declan hadn't really planned out what he was going to say, and he now realized that this was a problem. He could feel Kurt's sleepy, yet intense eyes boring into him and he started to panic. "Who was that guy in the coffee shop earlier today?" He finally blurted out.

"What? What are you talking about?" Kurt looked confused, but Declan saw something else flash in his eyes.

"The guy sitting in the corner with his friend," Declan explained. "You were staring at him all morning."

Kurt's jaw dropped before he composed himself. "You were spying on me?" He asked angrily, his lips forming a tight, thin line.

"No Kurt," Declan said, his voice growing a little louder as anger started to stir inside of him as well. "You told me to check up on you. It was part of the deal for not ratting you out to Sue. Remember?" He spoke evenly. Immediately, Kurt's face relaxed slightly and he looked a tiny bit embarrassed.

"Oh yeah," he answered sheepishly. "I just didn't see you come in, that's all. In any case, I still have no idea what you're talking about." Kurt crossed his arms and shifted slightly on the couch. He was such a bad liar.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about?" Declan asked, incredulously. "Is that so? Well, he was about five-seven, five-eight, dark curly hair, with eyebrows that looked like chubby triangles. Any of that ring a bell?"

Kurt was caught and he knew it. Now it was his turn to panic under Declan's stare. After several moments of sputtering, Kurt finally decided on the truth, with a few details left out.

"Fine," Kurt sighed. "He was my best friend, okay? I didn't talk to him at all, aside from taking his coffee order. As far as he knows, I'm Trevor, the new Lima Bean guy and that's all."

Declan watched him squirm for a moment before responding. "There's more you're not telling me. He wasn't just your best friend. You wouldn't have been watching him like that every time I came by if he was just a friend." Declan wondered briefly if he had taken this too far, and from the look on Kurt's face, he most definitely had.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Kurt responded, slowly and quietly with a fury that startled Declan. "Who the _hell_ do you think you _are_?" This time Kurt jumped up from the couch and stood over Declan, staring down at him with such intensity, that Declan thought Kurt was going to hit him. He scooted backward on the rug before clambering to his feet. Declan was a couple of inches taller than Kurt, but in this moment, he was fairly confident that Kurt could have beat him down if he wanted to.

"Look, Kurt, calm down, I—"

"I will not calm down!" Kurt shouted angrily, stabbing his finger angrily into Declan's chest. The spot burned after Kurt's hand dropped back to his side. "I understand that you were checking up on me per our agreement, but where do you get off trying to dig into my personal business? Who Blaine and I were to each other is absolutely _none_ of your concern."

"Blaine?"

"Don't you say his name!" This time Kurt took both of his hands and shoved Declan back with a strength he wouldn't have known Kurt possessed from looking at him. "You don't get to say his name."

Declan stumbled back from the shove and threw his hands in front of himself, defensively. Both were breathing heavy and eyeing each other, Kurt with a downright murderous stare, and Declan with one of caution.

"You asked me some questions," Declan said slowly and as calmly as his racing heart would let him. "Let me answer them. Can we sit down again?"

Kurt said nothing for several seconds and then finally gave Declan a curt nod. He turned around slowly, keeping his head turned to Declan as he returned to the couch and sat down. Declan felt around for the chair behind him and slid down almost gingerly. He waited a few more seconds before speaking.

"It's my job to look after you," Declan began. He could tell Kurt wanted to respond to that, but to his credit, he kept his mouth shut, waiting for Declan to continue. "I'm just worried that you're going to have a hard time staying out of your past life if you're working at the same place where your ex-boyfriend likes to get his coffee."

"He's not my ex-boyfriend," Kurt said angrily. "We didn't break up, I fucking died."

"You can't look at it that way, Kurt, don't you see?" Declan tried not to sound exasperated, but it was hard with Kurt seemingly hell-bent on going against what Sue had told him about interfering with his past life and with what he promised Declan and Annabel when they agreed to go along with this genius plan. "He can't be anything to you anymore, you're just going to make this more difficult for yourself and I guarantee if you try to get back in his life, even as Trevor, it's going to end very badly for both of you."

Kurt stared at him for several moments until a feeling of understanding washed over him. He smiled bitterly, almost cruelly as he spoke. "I know what this is about. I've figured it out."

It was Declan's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You're jealous," Kurt laughed, humorlessly. "You've developed feelings for me and you feel threatened by Blaine. You're fucking jealous."

Declan felt the color rise in his face. Any feelings of like or lust that he had been experiencing earlier flew out the window as he watched Kurt's face transform from a thing of beauty into an ugly sneer. "Oh yeah?" he said, anger bubbling at the back of his throat. "And what makes you think that, huh?

"I've seen the way you look at me," Kurt said, cockily, as he crossed his arms over his chest again and leaned back against the couch. "You're into me and you're mad that I don't feel anything for you." Kurt put emphasis on the 'anything' and despite Declan's anger and disgust with how Kurt was talking to him, he felt a pang in his chest upon hearing that word.

Declan stood up. He walked slowly over to Kurt and bent down so that his face was within inches of Kurt's. "What I feel for you," He said, taking a moment to study Kurt's face from his chin all the way up to his forehead. "Is pity. You're a pathetic child who, through some sort of special hell, I've been forced to babysit. You irritate the shit out of me and I don't give one flying fuck anymore if you want to screw with your precious Blaine's head and completely destroy your afterlife in the process." Declan backed away slowly, watching the look of shock roll over Kurt's face. His mouth hung slightly open, but before he could say anything, Declan spoke again.

"I'm going out," He grabbed his shoes at the front door and shoved his feet inside of them before reaching for the door handle. "The morning meeting is at eight o'clock. I honestly don't care if you're there or not, but one thing is for sure. You better be out of this house by the time I get back from Maggie's. You aren't welcome here anymore." With that, he threw the door wide and slammed it behind him.

Kurt sat frozen on the couch. After a few seconds, he could feel hot tears spilling down his cheeks. Kurt had taken it too far, he had been cruel and he knew it. He knew that Declan was just trying to protect Kurt and he had been bluffing about Declan having feelings for him, but the way he responded to Kurt's accusations, there was no doubt now. Kurt had just ruined the one friendship he had since his death and he was overwhelmed by the strength of the loss he felt the minute that door slammed.

He was wide awake now. Once his tears subsided, Kurt got up from the couch and went to the bathroom to wash his face and gather his few toiletries. He went back to the couch and threw his belongings into his satchel, grabbing a few folded up t-shirts and pants which he kept in the drawer of the coffee table, having used it as a makeshift bureau.

His movements were almost robotic. It was now creeping in on five thirty in the morning, and the sky was starting to lighten a bit. He had no idea where he was going as he laced up his boots and exited the apartment, presumably for the last time.

As he walked around downtown Lima, he tried to think of a plan of action, but kept drawing a blank. Without Declan's friendship and support, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. One thing was for sure, though, he would be getting to that meeting at Maggie's by eight o'clock sharp and maybe, by some miracle, Declan would accept Kurt's apology and request for forgiveness. It was his only hope.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"The morning meeting is at eight o'clock. I honestly don't care if you're there or not, but one thing is for sure. You better be out of this house by the time I get back from Maggie's. You aren't welcome here anymore."

Declan stalked through the door and slammed it hard behind him with a tremor in his hands that travelled all the way through his body. He leaned back against the door, more out of necessity than desire, and tried to calm himself down. His breath was coming out in ragged spurts and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

 _What the hell did I just do?_ Declan asked himself, running a hand through his hair. Sure, he was upset, he was furious and hurt and embarrassed and so many other things, but kicking Kurt out, knowing he had nowhere else to go? All because Kurt had touched on the truth of the situation in some small way, albeit with a cruelty Declan didn't know the boy possessed.

Declan knew that messing with your former life once you were a reaper could have devastating consequences, he'd seen it before. He _was_ trying to prevent that from happening to Kurt, he _was_ trying to protect him from his bad choices. But how much of that was motivated by Declan's developing feelings for Kurt? He felt so confused and he didn't know where to start trying to sort it all out.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he heard tiny sniffles coming through the other side of the thin apartment wall. After a few minutes, the sniffles slowed and then stopped completely and Declan could hear Kurt moving around the apartment. With a shuddering sigh, he pushed himself off the door and headed down the hallway, exiting the building.

He walked around for a bit downtown, not really focusing on anything except for how screwed up the whole situation was until about six o'clock. His body was so tired and even while walking, his eyes were having a hard time staying open. This day was going to suck, he decided. He found himself outside of Maggie's two hours early, but thankfully it was a twenty-four hour joint, so he went ahead and entered, falling unceremoniously into the booth at their regular table. He ordered a coffee and then rested his head on the table.

"Well look at this hot mess," Declan jolted awake to find Laura standing over him, arms crossed over her abdomen wearing her trademark bitch sneer. "Rough night, sugar?"

"I'm not in the mood," Declan grumbled. He felt like he'd just put his head down to rest, but he must have fallen asleep for a while because light was streaming in the windows and the coffee sitting next to him was cold.

"Uh-oh," Laura tsked as she lowered herself into the opposite booth. "Trouble in paradise with Hummel? A little lover's spat?"

"I said I'm not in the mood, Laura," He replied through gritted teeth, glaring at her despite the after-sleep burn in his eyes. "Give it a rest."

"Okay, sorry, geez," She said, dropping her eyes and pretending to study the menu in front of her. "Take a chill pill."

"You realize that no one says 'chill pill' anymore, right Lo?" Another voice popped in, this one belonging to Annabel as she bounced over to the table, taking the seat next to Declan.

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Laura replied with an angry bite in her voice. When Laura first came on board, Annabel had been intimidated by the hostility she constantly seemed to be harboring, but by now she knew that Laura was harmless, for the most part.

"Declan, you look like shit," Annabel turned her attention to him, ignoring Laura's stare. "And where's Kurt?"

"Don't know, don't care," Declan replied, taking a sip from the cold coffee and instantly regretting it. His face scrunched up as he motioned for the waitress to bring him a fresh one. Annabel opened her mouth to respond when Laura cleared her throat and shook her head slightly, communicating to Annabel that questioning him was a bad idea.

They sat in silence as the clock approached eight o'clock. A few minutes early, Kurt walked through the front door, and Declan couldn't help but notice the small feeling of relief deep inside of him. He averted his glance and took a sudden, intense interest in studying a packet of sugar as Kurt slid into the booth next to Laura.

"Morning," Kurt said quietly. His voice was gravelly, but even.

"Morning," the girls responded in unison, eyeing Kurt cautiously and with concern. The boy look even smaller than usual and the bag he carried seemed to be overflowing. Part of a tube sock was hanging out from underneath the top flap, but Kurt didn't seem to notice. He cast a furtive glance toward Declan, who at that exact moment, had decided to do the same. Both looked away quickly and shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Annabel and Laura watched the awkward exchange and gave each other a questioning look.

What's going on? Annabel mouthed silently to Laura. Laura seemed to be thinking about it for a moment before bringing her hands up sneakily, her left hand index finger poking through the slightly open fist of her right hand several times before shrugging her shoulders quizzically.

Annabel rolled her eyes shook her head, casting her eyes at both boys to make sure they hadn't seen. Both seemed to be lost in their own, separate worlds.

"Good morning everyone," Sue greeted as she strolled up to the booth, dragging a chair behind her. "Declan, you look even more homeless than usual this morning." Declan gave her a tired look but said nothing. Sue found it odd that he didn't offer some kind of retort. She glanced between him and Kurt several times, noticing that something was off, but she decided not to pursue it right that moment.

After they ate, Sue distributed sticky notes to everyone but Kurt, as usual. Just as Kurt and Declan were both trying to figure out in their heads how this was going to work, Sue's voice broke through their thoughts.

"Kurt, I want you to shadow Annabel today," She said. Annabel beamed and clapped her hands together once. "I think it would be good for you to experience a different reaping style. Now go, get out of my sight."

Annabel, Kurt and Laura all got up from the table and headed for the door. Declan began to slide to the end of the booth to follow, when Sue shot her arm out, pressing her hand to the back of the booth seat, stopping him.

"Eh, eh, eh, you stay right there," She said, removing her hand and moving to the opposite seat of the booth. "You and I need to have a little chat." Declan looked defeated, but again he said nothing.

"What's up between you and Porcelain?" She asked, leaning over the table. "And don't say 'nothing' because it's painfully obvious something is going on and you know how I feel about people lying to me."

Declan took in a deep breath. "We got into an argument," he said plainly.

"That's it? An argument?" Sue said incredulously. "No way, it was more than that. Spill it."

Declan briefly contemplated telling her the truth about Kurt's new job and Blaine and Kurt's stubborn determination to interfere with his past life, but despite all the cruel things Kurt had said to him earlier that morning, Declan still wanted to protect him.

"He kinda freaked out about the reaping once we got home last night," Declan lied, the words coming out much smoother than he imagined they would. "I tried the tough love approach because it seemed to work when you did it, but I guess he didn't appreciate it coming from me."

Sue nodded slowly. "And that hobo satchel he was carrying around, what's that about?"

Declan didn't know how to get around that one. "I guess I told him he needed to find a new place to stay from now on."

"Declan, for the love of God, I put him in your care because you are the most even-keeled out of all of us," Sue said angrily. "You can't just kick him out, where do you expect him to go?"

"I don't know," Declan threw his hands in the air in defeat. "I wasn't thinking. I guess I was just angry at the things he was saying to me."

"I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me," Sue said evenly. Declan knew what was coming and the last thing he wanted to do was to be honest about it.

"Do you have feelings, romantic feelings, for Porcelain?" She asked, a touch of softness in her voice.

Declan sat quietly for a few moments, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the seat. He focused his gaze through the window, on the people walking outside.

"I guess, I don't know, maybe," he said, barely above a whisper. The ache in his chest returned. "I'm just very confused right now."

"Well, Declan," Sue began with a warm smile. "Suck it up." She finished abruptly, smile disappearing from her lips. Declan should have known the tender moment wouldn't last.

"I don't care what you need to do to get there in your head, but you need to forget about Kurt as a potential conquest and start treating him like a mentor, because buddy, I guarantee you if you don't, there will be consequences." With that, Sue pushed up from the table and stalked out of the restaurant, leaving Declan there with his sticky note and his thoughts. He glanced at the already crumpled paper in his hand. It was an early reaping, the death occurring in less than an hour, but thankfully the location wasn't far. He took a final swig of lukewarm coffee before stumbling out of the restaurant.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as they exited Maggie's, Annabel threw her arm around Kurt's and led him to the town square fountain across the street. Their reaping wasn't until mid-afternoon, so she figured they had time for a little girl talk. They approached a bench near the fountain and Annabel sat, motioning for Kurt to do the same.

"What's going on, Kurtsie?" Annabel asked with concern. "What happened between you and Dec?"

Kurt took in a trembling breath, feeling like he was about to start crying again. He pushed through the feelings though, determined not to shed any more tears. Not before noon, anyway.

"I don't know," he started. "He woke me up in the middle of the night and was accusing me of using my job to interfere with my past life and I interpreted his concern the wrong way. I said a bunch of things I didn't mean and he got angry at me and kicked me out."

Annabel paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before replying. "Kurt, why did you want to work at the coffee shop? Aside from it being where you intended to work this summer when you were alive, what was your real motivation for choosing that particular place?"

If Kurt could have mustered up the energy to lie, he would have, but he was just so tired and lonely and scared at this point, he was left with nothing but the truth. "My boyfriend," he admitted. "Former boyfriend, I suppose. I just wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he was okay, you know? But it was a lot harder than I thought it would be when he came in yesterday."

"Kurt—" Annabel started cautiously, shaking her head.

"I know, I know, it was dumb," Kurt interjected, mustering the required energy to plead his case. Despite everything that was going on with Declan, he still had the overwhelming need to keep his job at The Lima Bean. He had to be able to see Blaine. "But Annabel, I have to do this and the next time I see him, it will be easier. Just like the reapings."

Annabel stared into the young boy's puppy dog eyes and couldn't help but melt a bit. He reminded her so much of her younger brother. They had been so close before she died and the one thing she regretted after death was never being able to see him again. She understood where Kurt was coming from, but he was playing a dangerous game working at that coffee shop.

"So that's what the fight was about? That's why he kicked you out?" She asked, already knowing there had to be more. Kicking Kurt out was just not something Declan would do unprovoked.

"Well, it started out about that, but…" Kurt trailed off, leaning over and putting his head in his hands. Annabel rubbed his hunched back lightly, encouraging him to continue. "I, I accused him of being jealous. Of Blaine. I accused him of having a crush on me and being angry that I still have feelings for Blaine."

"Wow," Annabel said, leaning back against the bench.

"Yeah. Wow." Kurt replied, shaking his head from underneath his hands.

"Well, this whole situation makes a lot more sense now," Annabel said. Kurt sat back up and turned to her.

"It does?" He asked, confused.

"Listen, Kurt, I've known Declan for almost three decades now," Annabel started. "He's like a brother to me and as much as we may hate it sometimes, we know each other as well, if not better than we know ourselves. It's obvious that Dec has feelings for you. I saw it in his eyes the moment he met you, but my guess is, he didn't realize it until you called him out on it. If I know him well enough, which I do, I think you probably embarrassed the shit out of him, and he more than likely panicked because Declan does not fall for people easily. He had a rough life and his afterlife hasn't exactly been a walk in the park either."

Kurt winced.

"Oops," Annabel said apologetically, returning the wince. "Sorry for the park metaphor. Anyway, he probably just needs some time to cool off. In fact, I can almost guarantee that by the end of the day, you'll have your couch back, but it's going to take some work on your part."

"I'll do anything," Kurt said eagerly. He was going to have a lot to process later, with everything Annabel had just told him, confirming his earlier suspicions that Declan did indeed like him, but right now he was focused on how to get his friend back. "What do I need to do?"

"Well, first, we need to take care of this reaping," Annabel said, pulling out the paper. "After that, I think you should sit down with Dec, somewhere neutral, and you need to apologize."

"I don't think he wants to talk to me," Kurt said, shaking his head hopelessly.

"Oh trust me, he does," Annabel said with a slight laugh. "He may not know it yet, but the instant you ask him to meet you somewhere, he'll jump."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," She answered, standing up and extending a hand to Kurt. "Now, we have about three hours before our reap, how about a little shopping? I could use a new purse and you could use a new…" She paused to look Kurt, in his crumpled tee shirt and khakis, up and down, "everything."

For what felt like the first time in a decade, Kurt let a small smile grace his lips as he stood up with Annabel's help and followed her away from the fountain.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Thanks for the new clothes, Annabel," Kurt said as he stuffed the last over-sized bag into Annabel's trunk. "I'll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck, assuming I don't have to use it to pay for a bunk at the West Lima youth hostel." He muttered the last part and Annabel rolled her eyes at him before giving him an encouraging pat on the back and making her way to the driver's side door.

"Listen, Kurtsie," Annabel began once they were both seated in the car. "Do you trust me?"

"Um yeah, sure, I guess."

"Well after that vote of confidence," Annabel said sarcastically, clearing her throat. "Things will be fine with Declan, just do everything I tell you to do, starting with this." She reached into her purse and took out a cell phone, throwing it in Kurt's lap.

"What's this?" Kurt asked, picking it up and realizing a second too late what it sounded like he was asking.

"Seriously? It's a cell phone. Did you grow up in a cult?"

"I know it's a cell phone," Kurt sighed exasperatedly. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Send Dec a text message," She instructed slowly as she started backing out of the parking space. "Tell him it's from you so he doesn't get confused, that happens easily."

"Okay," Kurt mumbled as he started tapping his way through the phone's menu and writing out the message. "Then what should I say?"

"Ask him to meet you somewhere for coffee or drinks or a late lunch or whatever it is guys do when they get together," She said, one hand on the steering wheel and the other motioning animatedly in the air. "Anywhere but your stupid coffee shop, the apartment or Maggie's. The more neutral the better."

"Okay, how does this sound," Kurt said after a few moments, holding the phone up. "Dear Declan, this is Ku—"

"First of all, take out the 'dear'," Annabel interrupted. "You're talking to Declan, not your diary. Continue."

"Fine," Kurt said through pursed lips. He knew that Annabel was just trying to help, but she was starting to get on his nerves. He definitely wanted to stay on her good side though, considering she was the one person who could help him get back in Declan's good graces.

"Declan, this is Kurt," he continued reading from the text message. "I wanted to know if you would be willing to meet up this afternoon for a late lunch so we could talk."

"Boring," Annabel sighed as Kurt rolled his eyes. "But it'll do. Send it, and while you're waiting for a reply, think about where you want to go and what time, because he's going to say yes."

"How can you be so sure?" Kurt asked, putting the phone down after pressing the send button. "Is he that predictable?"

"Yes," she answered simply. Not ten seconds passed before the phone was buzzing in his lap. Kurt held his breath as he opened the message.

_Declan: Fine. When and where?_

"Well, I was hoping for something more cheerful, but that'll do," Kurt said. "You were right."

"Of course I was," Annabel smirked, obviously very satisfied with herself. "Now, our reaping is in about thirty minutes, but we should be done by three. Dec's was earlier this morning, so God knows what he's up to right now, probably rifling through some poor dead guy's wallet. What are you going to tell him?"

"Three-thirty at Breadstix?" Kurt asked, hoping for approval. After all, who didn't love Breadstix?

"Three-thirty yes, Breadstix, no," Annabel answered. "It's too stuffy. Go to a sandwich shop or something. This isn't a date, Kurtsie, at least it's not going to start out that way." She finished with a conspiratorial smile that told Kurt she was getting way too much enjoyment out of this whole matchmaking make-up business.

"Okay, three-thirty at the Garden Café, then?"

"Perfect." Kurt tapped out the message and dropped the phone back into his lap. He stared out the window as Annabel drove to their reaping location, waiting for the phone to buzz. It took a little longer than last time, but just as Kurt was starting to panic, he felt it vibrate in his lap.

Declan: Okay, see you then.

"It's a date," Kurt said as Annabel pulled into the parking lot of a pharmacy convenience store. "A really awkward, groveling, apologetic date. Hey, why are we here? Isn't our reaping over off of Sherwood?"

"Sure is," Annabel said, putting the car in park. She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, leaving the car running. "I'll be right back."

Kurt gave her a confused nod as she exited the car and went into the store. He stared at the messages he'd exchanged with Declan and tried to find some hidden emotion in the one's Declan had sent back to him, but from all outward appearances, it looked like the only emotion Declan was expressing to Kurt was a cool distance, laced with a lingering anger from earlier that morning.

Kurt was snapped out of his thoughts as Annabel returned, hopping back into the driver's seat and thrusting a plastic bag toward Kurt.

"What's this?" Kurt said. He wasn't sure if the bag was meant for him or if he was just supposed to hold it. What if he opened it and it was tampons or something? _Gross. Do dead women have periods?_ Kurt shook his head vigorously, trying to get the thought out of his head.

"Open it," Annabel said, starting the car again. "My gift to you. Actually, Declan should have thought of this, but it seems his mind has been a bit preoccupied."

Kurt opened the bag to find a throwaway cell phone and a prepaid calling card.

"I know you've spent pretty much all your time with one of us except when you're at work, but you're going to be reaping on your own soon, so you need a way to get in touch with us and vice versa," Annabel explained. "Take it out and start copying the numbers from my phone. Ignore the ones with 'x's' after the name."

Kurt glanced over at her as he opened the packaging. "Are those…?" he trailed off.

"My clients," Annabel answered, unashamed. Kurt nodded silently and began copying over the gang's numbers.

"Thanks," he said quietly when he was done. "For the phone, the clothes, and for trying to help me glue my afterlife back together."

"Kurt, I'm going to give you some advice," Annabel said. They were finally at their destination on Sherwood and Annabel parked the car but made no move to exit. "You've only been at this for a little over a week. If you have the mindset that your afterlife is broken and in need of repair already, you are in for a really rough time. This is just a slight bump in the road that's easily fixed, okay?"

"Got it," Kurt said with a tight smile.

"Alright, then. You ready?" She asked him.

"As I'll ever be," Kurt answered and with that, they were off to Kurt's third reaping.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan was a few minutes early to his meeting with Kurt at the Garden Café. He figured he might be, since Kurt and Annabel's reaping was at a quarter to three. He went ahead and sat down at a table on the outdoor patio and ordered a coke.

He was surprised and a little bit hesitant when he received the text message from Kurt on Annabel's phone. He should have known that Annabel would nose her way into the situation and make it her project. She could never just let things be and typically he would have been really annoyed with her, but the truth was, he really wanted to see Kurt. He wanted to fix things. Sure, he was still upset and hurt by what Kurt had said, but he hadn't meant what he said to Kurt either. He didn't think Kurt was pathetic and he didn't feel like he was babysitting when he was with Kurt. He felt amazing when he was with him, he felt things inside of himself that he hadn't felt for a long time. So if Kurt was wanting to talk things over, and hopefully patch things up, Declan was all for it. Plus, Sue's threat wasn't something he felt he should take lightly.

He must have been lost in his own world, because Kurt was almost on top of him, clearing his throat loudly before Declan noticed the boy's presence.

"Hey," Kurt said, with a small, nervous smile. "Can I sit down?"

"Hey, yeah, please," Declan stuttered, motioning to the chair opposite him. "I didn't know what you wanted to drink, so…" he trailed off. Why was he so nervous all of the sudden? If anything, Kurt should be the one fumbling and trying to accommodate him, right?

"No, it's okay, I'll just catch her when she comes back," Kurt answered, scanning the patio for the waitress. "Declan, I just want to say—"

"Wait, can I go first?" Declan cut him off. Kurt opened and closed his mouth several times before deciding on a simple nod. Declan watched as Kurt leaned back in the chair, as if preparing himself for a physical or verbal onslaught, which made Declan feel even worse. Despite this, he continued.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry," Declan started, noticing the confused look on Kurt's face. "I didn't mean it when I said you weren't welcome back at the apartment. I was just upset and I said things that I didn't really mean. I'm sorry."

Kurt sputtered for a few seconds before being interrupted by the waitress, who brought Declan his soda and took Kurt's drink order. After she left, Kurt drew a few even breaths before starting again.

"Declan, please," Kurt's voice broke. "Don't apologize. It was all me, I—I don't know what I was thinking, and I said some awful things when all you were trying to do was help me, and I should have listened to you and instead I was behaving like a brat and now you're apologizing and—"

"Kurt, slow down," Declan said, calmly reaching over the table and placing a reassuring hand on top of Kurt's. It was an almost automatic action, one he didn't put much thought into until he heard Kurt's sharp intake of breath and felt the hand beneath his trembling slightly.

"I'm sorry," Kurt finally said, when he could trust himself to speak again. "For everything I said this morning and for how I reacted. You were absolutely right and I understand if you never want to see me again."

Declan started to chuckle, but quickly stopped when he saw the horrified look on Kurt's face. "Well, apology accepted Kurt. And of course I want to see you again, I don't really have much of a choice do I, since we work together and have to see each other at least twice a day? But aside from reaping obligations, I do want you in my life. I value or friendship and I don't want to lose it."

"Is that what this is?" Kurt asked tentatively. He had so much swimming around in his mind and he couldn't seem to sort out any of it. The only things he was sure of at this exact moment in time were that he was beyond relieved to have Declan's forgiveness and that Declan's hand on top of his made him feel dizzy in a good way.

"What do you mean?" Declan asked, confused. He took a long sip from his coke.

"What we have, I mean," Kurt continued shakily. "Is this friendship, because it feels like more than that to me. I…I like you. I think I like you. Like, I have feelings for you and wow, I'm saying 'like' a lot."

"I like you too," Declan admitted, even though it scared the shit out of him to do so. "I think I have since I met you. But, I think you're confused. Maybe you like me, or maybe you're lonely and I'm available."

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Declan lifted his hand, the one that had been resting on Kurt's, to stop him.

"You just died, Kurt, and you've got a lot to sort out before you can figure out exactly what it is you feel for me. I know you're feeling vulnerable and lonely, and I'm sure you miss Blaine. It sounds like you really love him." Declan felt an inexplicable pain shoot from his chest to his fingertips at that last part.

"I do," Kurt admitted, his eyes getting a little misty. This wasn't how he envisioned their conversation going.

"And even though I think you've figured out that you can't be with him anymore," Declan spoke carefully, still afraid of setting Kurt off again on the Blaine subject. "It's going to take some time before you are going to be ready to think about being with someone again, whether that someone is me, or—or someone else. But as far as I know, I've got nothing but time, and I'm willing to wait and be your friend while you work on getting there." Declan gave Kurt a smile. _When the hell did I become a grown-up?_ Declan asked himself. This was totally not his style, but something about Kurt made him want to be a better, more thoughtful and patient person.

"Wow," Kurt said, letting out a shaky breath. "You are…an amazing friend. Thanks, Dec."

"Yeah, well, I didn't really do anything, but you're welcome, I guess," Declan answered uncomfortably.

After that, the boys made small talk, laughing occasionally and enjoying their meal before it was time to go report in with Sue. When they arrived at Maggie's together and neither looked worse for wear, Sue gave Declan an approving nod, with Annabel giving the same to Kurt. After the meeting, the two boys headed back to the apartment. As Declan opened the door and turned on the light, they both noticed the four shopping bags Kurt had left in Annabel's trunk sitting in the foyer. Kurt picked up a note attached to one of the bags and read it with a chuckle.

"What does it say?" Declan asked, looking over Kurt's shoulder.

"'Was I right or was I right? Love, Annabel.' And then she drew little hearts all around it," Kurt answered. "She's pretty cocky, you know?"

"Yeah, she is," Declan answered. "Hey, do you want to take the bed tonight? I don't mind sleeping out here, I know the couch is probably killing your back."

"Um, no, that's okay," Kurt waved him off, "I'll get used to it, and maybe before too long I'll be out of your hair and in my own place, so—"

"Hey Kurt?" Declan interrupted him, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. "Listen, you don't have to get your own place. You're welcome to stay here. I mean, I wish you would stay here. Like, permanently."

Kurt looked a little startled, but inwardly he was jumping for joy. Not having to find a place to live would take a lot of stress off of him, plus, he really didn't want to be away from Declan.

"Okay, yeah," Kurt finally spoke. "Thanks. Maybe I'll just use my apartment money to save up for a bed then."

"Sounds good," Declan smiled, clapping his hands together. "Okay then, I'm going to call it a night, I suppose. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Sure," Kurt returned the smile as Declan turned around and started heading down the hall. "Oh and Dec?"

Declan turned around a little too eagerly.

"Maybe tonight if you can't sleep, try a Nyquil?" Kurt lifted his chin and gave a mock bitch sneer before bursting out in a wide grin.

"Noted," Declan replied sheepishly. He turned back and headed into the bedroom, closing the door.

Kurt shook his head and began unpacking his new clothes into the coffee table drawers. The day had ended a lot better than it started, that was for sure. Hopefully, after the roller coaster ride he was on all day, the next day would be peaceful, quiet and downright boring. Yeah right, Kurt thought to himself. He decided not to get his hopes up.

As he drifted off to sleep later that evening, dreams of both Declan and Blaine danced in his head as even his subconscious was utterly confused by the relationship between them all in Kurt's new life. Sorting it all out was going to be a bitch, but whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to confront it all sooner or later.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It was around ten o'clock Saturday evening and Blaine and Finn sat on the couch in the Anderson's living room, eating pizza and watching television. Mrs. Anderson had descended the stairs to check on the boys in the living room and asked Finn for his mother's phone number. FInn hadn't even thought about calling her to let her know where he was, but the instant Blaine's mom asked for the number and he knew she was going to call on his behalf, he felt guilty. On one hand, for the past week, Finn felt invisible in his own home. Everyone moved around like ghosts, soul-deserted bodies passing each other in the halls like apathetic zombies and whenever he tried talking to his mom or Burt, he was met with an empty stare. On the other hand, he knew his mom and Burt had just lost a child and if they snapped out of it long enough to realize Finn was missing, it might send them into a panic, wondering about the whereabouts of their surviving son.

After getting the number from Finn, Mrs. Anderson had disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear her talking softly from his position on the couch but he couldn't make out the words. Several minutes later, she returned and asked Blaine to set the television to mute while she spoke.

"I just spoke with your mom, Finn," She started, propping herself up on the armrest of the couch. "I told her you were welcome to spend the night and the rest of the weekend here if you want and she agreed that it was probably best for you and Blaine to spend some time together."

Finn nodded and casted a glance toward Blaine who offered a small smile in return.

"She wanted to come drop some clothes off for you tonight, but I told her that you could borrow some peejays from Blaine," Mrs. Anderson didn't miss the embarrassed eye roll from her son. "And I invited her over for coffee and brunch tomorrow morning, so she's going to drop off some clothes then. I hope I wasn't too presumptuous, Finn, but I asked her to bring over your school things as well." Finn gave her a confused look, but waited for her to elaborate.

"I thought maybe, if you wanted, you could spend the night tomorrow night as well, and you and Blaine could go in to school together. I figured since it was both yours and Blaine's first day back, you might want to go at it together."

Finn and Blaine exchanged a knowing look and nodded in agreement before returning their attention to Mrs. Anderson.

"We were actually thinking the same thing," Finn said, his stomach tying in knots again just over the mention of returning to McKinley. "Thanks, Mrs. A."

"Great," she answered, rubbing her hands together, obviously relieved that the boy hadn't taken her concern for meddling. "With that settled, have you two discussed sleeping arrangements?" She directed the question to her son, her eyes conveying to him that she was concerned about his room, walls still covered and picture frames lying face down around the various surfaces of the room. Blaine understood the subtext in her question and spoke for the first time in the conversation.

"I was thinking we could just camp out down here for tonight," He said. _And tomorrow, maybe I'll tackle the drop cloths,_ he added silently in his head. He knew they had to come down eventually, and had Finn not showed up, he may have taken that step already. He didn't want Finn to know what he'd done though. It wasn't that he was ashamed or embarrassed, he just felt an inexplicable need to protect Finn from any more hurt, despite the fact that he was probably hurting just as much if not more. Trying to help Finn was helping Blaine. It gave him a project, something to focus on other than the gaping hole in his chest left by the loss of Kurt.

"I think that's a good idea," She smiled. "Sweetheart, why don't you help me bring down some blankets and pillows, and you can grab something for Finn to sleep in too." Blaine nodded and hopped up from the couch, following his mom up the stairs. Finn watched with a slight pang of jealousy. It wasn't that he didn't have a good relationship with Carole. In fact, looking at Blaine and his mom, he could see that the two mother-son relationships were quite similar. It was just that Finn missed it. He missed his mom this past week and part of him was terrified that she wouldn't come back and he needed her so much right now. Finn wiped the tears burning in his eyes, silently ordering himself to toughen up. He was eighteen, an adult according to the government, but all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry in his mom's lap while she rocked him.

As he was rubbing his eyes, tears finally starting to subside, Blaine and his mom arrived back to the room, arms laden with comforters, pillows and a spare set of nightwear. Blaine had already changed into his and handed the folded tee shirt and pajama pants to Finn.

"I usually roll mine up, so these shouldn't be too short on you," Blaine grinned sheepishly after depositing the items into Finn's waiting hands.

"Thanks dude, I'm sure they'll be fine," Finn replied, grateful to be ridding himself of the same pair of blue jeans he'd been wearing for almost a week straight, with the exception of a few hours at the funeral several days prior. At this point, the jeans probably could have stood up and walked away on their own, but Finn had neither the knowledge nor the energy to operate the washing machine, and judging from the pile of clothes growing in the laundry room, his mom didn't have the motivation to do it either. Not that he could blame her. Waking up, eating and breathing were all monumentally difficult and draining tasks for every inhabitant of the Hummel household these days.

"Alright boys, I'm going to head to bed," Mrs. Anderson announced, after placing the comforters she was carrying onto the empty space on the couch. She drew her son into an embrace, stroking his head lovingly for a moment before kissing his cheek and pulling away. She was headed toward the stairs when she heard a soft voice call out to her.

"Mrs. A?" Finn said tentatively. She turned around and took a few steps closer back to the living room.

"Yes Finn?" He looked and sounded so vulnerable, it made her want to cry.

"I was just wondering," He cast his eyes furtively toward Blaine for a moment, who was watching curiously before returning his gaze to her. "I don't know, I just…do you think…could I maybe," he swallowed nervously while Mrs. Anderson took another few steps toward the boy, her expression offering encouragement to Finn as he struggled to get the words out.

"Can I have a hug too?" He said, looking down and feeling a soft heat rise in his cheeks.

"Of course you can," She answered, letting out a huge rush of air and all but running to the boy. She gathered him up, and despite the fact that he was a good foot taller than her, she held him tightly, rocking slowly and rubbing his back. She could feel the tension leaving his body, feel his hot breath on her shoulder as he released a shuddering breath before starting to cry softly. He hugged her back with a grip that threatened to cut off her air supply, but she didn't back away. He needed this and she was so happy he trusted her to provide it for him.

After several minutes, Finn finally pulled away, rubbing at his eyes again and sniffling. Mrs. Anderson let him go, but held him at arm's length for a moment before smiling and wishing him a good night. She turned around and headed silently back up the stairs and it was then that Finn realized that Blaine had left the room. He grabbed the night clothes off the arm of the chair where he had placed them down and headed toward the hall bathroom.

After using the bathroom and changing, he went back out to the living room where he saw Blaine sitting back on the couch, slice of pizza in hand.

"Where'd you go earlier?" Finn asked, worried that he had somehow offended Blaine by borrowing his mom.

"Just to the kitchen," Blaine answered. "I wanted to give you some privacy."

"Oh," Finn replied, sitting back down on the couch next to him. "Thanks man, I hope that was alright. I mean, I know she's your mom and all, but—"

"It's fine, Finn," Blaine cut him off. "She's a great mom, I'm happy to share her with you. I know it's been hard this week."

Finn gave a lopsided half smile and both boys returned their attention to the television. Somewhere around three o'clock they both dozed off. Blaine curled up in the loveseat and Finn stretched out on the couch. Both boys slept hard and neither woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, which was a step in the right direction.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she descended the stairs that morning around eight, Mrs. Anderson didn't have the heart to wake either of them, so she moved around the kitchen and laundry room with a quiet stealth that she developed as a young mother, dealing with a light-sleeping, toddler Blaine years prior. By ten o'clock, however, she was forced to wake them, since Mrs. Hummel would be arriving within an hour and she wanted the boys to clear out of the living room by the time she arrived.

She was pleased that both boys looked like they had gotten a restful night's sleep. After several minutes of stretching and groaning, both boys were up and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

"How did you boys sleep?" Mrs. Anderson asked as she served them waffles at the bar.

"Good, I guess," Blaine answered and Finn mumbled an affirmative with a mouth already full of food.

"Good," She answered, satisfied to have two well-rested, satiated teenagers in her charge. "Why don't you two finish up and then head upstairs for showers. No offense, but you two stink." She smirked, turning her back to them to attend to the dirty waffle iron.

"Thanks, Mom," Blaine said with mock offense. "You wanna go first?" He asked Finn, who again was in the middle of a huge bite.

Finn took a moment to chew and swallow before answering. "Sure."

"Here, take these up with you," Mrs. Anderson handed him his clothes from last night, freshly laundered and folded. "I hope you don't mind, I went ahead and washed these with a load of Blaine's."

"No, uh, I don't mind," Finn stumbled, accepting the stack. "Thanks, Mrs. A., you didn't have to."

"Trust me," she gave him a smile. "I did. The bathroom is up the stairs and second door on the left. Leave your plate, I'll get it."

Finn gave her a small smile and headed toward the stairs. Once he was upstairs and she could hear the water running, Mrs. Anderson turned to her son.

"What are you going to do about your room?" She asked. "You can't sleep in the living room forever, and I have a feeling Finn's going to be spending a good deal of time around here."

Blaine sighed, pushing his plate away. "I'm going to go work on it now," he answered. "I think I can do it."

"Alright," She said, rubbing his shoulder. "Carole should be here in about thirty minutes, but if you need me, come and get me, okay?"

"Okay, thanks Mom." Blaine handed her his plate and trudged upstairs, not looking forward to what awaited him behind his closed bedroom door. After a few minutes, he finally got the courage to open the door and even though he knew what was there, it was still surprising to see his usually tidy, well-decorated bedroom covered in paint-splattered sheets. He walked over to the far wall, stood on his bed for extra height, and began carefully tugging at the stapled corner of the sheet. The sheet tore slightly as he got it loose from the wall and Blaine let out a small gasp as Kurt's beautiful smile came into view.

He studied the picture. It was a close-up of their faces squished together, taken by Kurt, made evident by the lopsided framing and extended left arm visible om the right-hand side of the picture. They were outside the mall, bundled up in Dalton scarves and squinting in the light reflected off the snow around them. It was taken before they had started dating. Blaine shook his head slightly as he remembered that time in his life. He had been so afraid to lose him as a friend, so afraid to pressure him after he'd been abused by Karofsky that he completely ignored his feelings for Kurt until he almost drove him away. Now he grimaced bitterly at the several wasted months that he could have spent loving the boy openly and with his whole heart. Until the accident, it hadn't been that big of a deal to Blaine that he hadn't acted sooner on his feelings. But now he would have given anything to have those few extra months.

"Um, Blaine?" Blaine nearly fell off of the bed when he heard Finn's voice from behind him. How long had he been standing there, clutching that picture, lost in another world? He turned around to see a freshly showered, confused looking Finn. "What's...what is this?"

Blaine opened his mouth, eyes surveying the room, trying to find the right words to explain the madness. "This is my room and I didn't intend for you to see it this way. I'm sorry."

"Why are the walls covered up?" Finn asked, still not quite understanding.

"Because..." did he have enough time to make up a plausible explanation? "I couldn't..." Finally, Blaine just decided to show him instead of trying to explain it. He stood back up on the bed and walked to the other end, tugging at the still-attached corner until it came loose. He let it fall to the ground and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before turning back around to face Finn.

"Whoa," Finn said, scanning the wall.

"Yeah," Blaine mumbled, hopping down off the bed and sitting on the edge, forearms resting on his thighs as he lowered his head. He found himself unable to look Finn in the eye for fear of crying. He didn't know if it was because he was embarrassed by what he did, or if he was just too damn sad to hold it in any longer. Sure, it had gotten slightly easier over the last few days, but God, he still missed Kurt so much.

"Blaine, I am…so sorry, I—"

"Don't," Blaine pleaded, still hunched over, but holding his hand out and shaking his head. "Please don't, Finn."

Finn walked slowly over to the bed, taking a closer look at some of the pictures on the wall above it before slowly sitting down next to Blaine. "I was so wrapped up in how I was feeling and how hard it was for me that I didn't even stop to think—"

"We'd been talking about our future, you know that?" Blaine interrupted, lifting his head up to look at the other boy, fresh tears in his eyes. "Not just dreaming about it, but actually making plans. We talked about what we were going to do for the year we were apart while he was in New York and I was here. I told him I wanted to be with him forever and he told me he couldn't wait to start a family with me. When you, when you called me and told me that he'd….my whole world…I've never, I-I didn't know that it was possible to feel this way, to feel _this_ lost. I have no idea how to live through this. I-I'm not sure I can do this."

Finn froze as the other boy dissolved into sobs. He knew he should try to comfort Blaine somehow, but he had no idea what to do. He kicked himself for not thinking about the fact that Blaine was suffering too. After several moments, Finn slid off the bed onto his knees and repositioned himself in front of Blaine. He tentatively stuck his arm out, placing it on the other boys shoulder. The slightest pull was all Blaine needed to all but launch himself into Finn's chest. It was awkward for both boys. This wasn't the kind of friendship they had with each other. Despite that, it was still comforting for Blaine and it relieved Finn somewhat that even though he was a little slow on the uptake, at least he was here for Blaine now.

Blaine's breaths started evening out after a few minutes and he pulled away from Finn, unable to meet his concerned gaze again.

"Hey," Finn started. "Do you want me to help you do this?"

Blaine forced himself to look into Finn's eyes. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks." Together, the two of them took down the rest of the cloths, taking a moment here and there to look at a picture and talk about the memory it contained. Both boys seemed to be feeling a little better, even though the task was one of the hardest things either of them had done in a while. They had been finished for a little while when they heard a soft knock at the door.

"Hey boys," Mrs. Anderson smiled softly. It was obvious she too had been crying. "Finn, your mom is downstairs getting ready to leave, would you like to say goodbye?"

"Yeah, of course," He said, standing up from where he was sitting on Blaine's bed. Mrs. Anderson watched him walk out of the room before going to sit next to her son on the bed. She could tell by the look on his face that this hadn't been as easy as they'd both been hoping.

"You okay?" She asked, knowing he wasn't, but hoping he understood what she was really asking.

"I will be," he answered, putting on his brave face. She drew him into a hug and the two remained that way until they heard the front door quietly close.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning rolled around quicker than either boy anticipated or wanted. Neither slept very well the night before, but they drew some small comfort in knowing that at least they weren't facing school alone.

"You ready?" Blaine asked Finn as he buckled himself into the driver's seat of his car. His mom had wanted to drive the boys to school and pick them up that afternoon, but Blaine convinced her that they would be perfectly capable of the task themselves. She reluctantly relented and after attempting to feed them that morning, she waved them off at the door.

"No, but do we really have a choice?" Finn answered grimly.

"I suppose not," Blaine agreed, backing slowly out of the driveway. They remained silent on the drive over to the school, neither able to think of anything to say. Thankfully, they had the same classes through lunch, after which they would be separated for the remaining two periods of the day before reuniting for glee club. They discussed skipping glee and going straight back to Blaine's house after the bell rung, but finally decided that it would be better just to get everything out of the way that day.

Blaine sighed heavily as he pulled into his assigned parking spot in the junior lot. They had timed their departure from the house so that they would arrive just in time to slip into class before the late bell rung, thereby limiting interactions with their class mates before school as much as humanely possible. They gave each other one final glance before turning the car off and heading into the school side by side.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was three-fifteen and Finn found himself in the twenty-two hundred wing boys bathroom, waiting for Blaine to arrive to their agreed-upon meeting place. Blaine didn't keep him waiting long, and immediately as he entered the bathroom, Finn could see the exhaustion etched into the other boy's face.

"You look horrible," Blaine said, letting his shoulder bag drop to the floor as he leaned against the wall.

"I could say the same for you," Finn replied. "I take it the last two hours didn't go well?"

"It's not that, I mean, it was nothing different than what we dealt with all day earlier," Blaine answered. They had received the treatment they had been expecting and dreading from their classmates. Most were avoiding them like the plague and those who weren't were trying way too hard to express their condolences to the boys. A few members of the New Directions had tried approaching them during lunch, but both Blaine and Finn had ignored them. They weren't trying to be rude, they just didn't think they could talk to them without losing it again and creating a scene.

"I'm just worn out," Blaine admitted. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to glee club."

"Look, dude, let's just get it over with," Finn said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't much. "The sooner we do it, the easier it will get, remember?"

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "Let's do it." They exited the bathroom and walked side-by-side down the hallway, exchanging another glance before entering the room.

You could hear a pin drop in the choir room when Blain and Finn walked through the open doorway. It wasn't that they'd interrupted conversation with their appearance, no one had been talking at all. It was like they were waiting to see if the boys would actually show up. Most of them looked miserable, some of them, like Rachel, looked terrified and both Blaine and Finn questioned silently whether this had been a bad idea.

"Finn, Blaine," Mr. Schuester acknowledged them, from where he stood, leaning slightly on the piano. "It's good to have you back, why don't you come in and have a seat?" They both crossed the room and chose two seats together, but away from the rest of the group and in the back so that they didn't have to worry about the eyes of the rest of the group on them.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schuester addressed the group, clearing his throat. "I know the past week and a half has been incredibly difficult, and I would be lying if I told you all that I knew what to say or do to make it better. I honestly have no idea how to deal with this or how to be there for you guys." The members of the group stole glances at one another before returning their attention to Mr. Schue.

"I met with Principal Figgins on Friday," he continued. "And we both agreed that something needed to be done to honor Kurt's memory here at McKinley. He was such a great addition to this school and there are so many things about his life that deserve to be celebrated." There were a few nods of agreement scattered throughout the room, but most of the kids just looked on with curiosity.

"This Thursday we are having a memorial for Kurt. The whole school will be shutting down for sixth and seventh periods so that we can gather and remember Kurt and what he taught us during his time here. Everyone in the school is invited to participate, either by speaking about Kurt or presenting a performance, but I think it would be really great if you guys could put something special together in his honor. I think if he could see it, he would really like that."

"I agree Mr. Schue," Rachel predictably spoke first. "I think the memorial is a great idea. I have some ideas—"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Rachel," Mr. Schue cut her off. "But what I'd like to do for today is dismiss practice early. I want you all to go home and spend the evening thinking about what you would say to Kurt if he was here now, what you would want him to know about how he impacted your life. Tomorrow, we'll come together again and talk about what we want to do, both individually and as a group to celebrate him."

A few murmurs rose from the group. "Alright guys, see you tomorrow." Mr. Schue dismissed them. He lingered at the piano as the group dispersed, in case anyone wanted or needed to talk to him. Most gave him a small smile as they meandered past. He was hoping that Blaine and Finn would stay for a moment. He'd been able to exchange at least a few words with every other member of the group either earlier that day or late the week before, but the two boys had bolted the minute Mr. Schue ended the meeting. He couldn't blame them, of course. It must have been extremely difficult to return to school after losing someone so close and so unexpectedly. As the last group of students left the room, Mr. Schue let out a sigh and followed, shutting off the chorus room lights and shutting the door gently behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

It was Thursday afternoon, and Kurt had been working at The Lima Bean all day. The week had been fairly uneventful, with only a couple of reapings scattered throughout. He was beginning to grow more comfortable with the whole process and when Sue announced that morning that he would be receiving his first reaping assignment on Saturday, he had taken the news with an odd mix of pride and fear. Declan had squeezed his thigh under the table at Maggie's and gave him a reassuring smile when Sue told him that Declan would be there, hanging out in the wings in case Kurt had any trouble.

After the meeting, Declan walked Kurt to the coffee shop, doing his best to calm his friend down. At least they didn't have a reaping assignment for the day.

"Just think about it this way, Kurt," Declan explained. "It'll be just like my reapings. The only difference will be that you'll be the one taking the soul and I'll be the one observing."

"Yeah, but what if I take the wrong one?" Kurt already knew the answer to that question, but his panic was causing him to forget.

"That can't happen remember?" Declan tried not to laugh at how cute Kurt was when he was nervous. "We're not in control, we just carry out the will of the fates, or whatever." About that time, the two came upon the coffee shop and Kurt stopped before heading in and turned to Declan.

"Okay, I trust you," Kurt relented, staring him right in the eye. "I guess I'll see you later tonight at home? I-I mean, your place?" Kurt blushed at the slip up and so did Declan.

"It's fine, Kurt," he reassured. "It's your home too, and yes, I'll see you tonight. Remember, no evening report meeting tonight, since there are no reaps."

"Ah, yes, a day without deaths," Kurt muttered.

"Hey, enjoy it," Declan ordered with mock seriousness. "It doesn't happen very often. Like a snow day in Aruba."

"Well, that's probably a little extreme as far as metaphors go, but point taken," Kurt smiled and turned back toward the shop, letting the door close softly behind him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now Kurt was finishing up his shift, after spending much of the day worrying over his potential reap on Saturday and praying that it wouldn't be too messy of a death. With his placement in the External Influence division though, it was almost a given that the death would involve at least a little gore.

Despite his distraction, he had worked hard all day and was finally starting to feel like he won Natalie's respect and trust. It probably helped that Blaine hadn't been back to the shop since Saturday, that he was aware of, but every day he prepared himself for the eventuality that Blaine would appear again. Kurt had made an agreement with Declan that he would be up front and honest about everything involving his job and interactions with Blaine in exchange for Declan cooling off on the surprise check-ins at the coffee shop.

Since they made up on Sunday, the two had fallen into a comfortable routine with each other. Kurt was still very confused about his feelings for Declan, but he understood and respected Declan for not pushing for something more than friendship. Kurt longed to be held again, to be kissed, and his thoughts lingered on Declan during those times of need, but was it simply because Blaine was now unavailable, or was it because he truly had feelings for Declan? He didn't know. What he did know was that when Declan smiled or touched him or said something funny, his heart would flutter while briefly before sinking with guilt over Blaine. Kurt was a mess, no doubt about it.

Kurt glanced up as his replacement, John, came striding through the door. Kurt looked up at the clock, which read ten after four.

"Sorry I'm late," John mumbled as he rushed past Kurt into the kitchen, tying his apron on and heading to the time clock. Kurt followed him.

"No worries, I didn't even notice," He answered honestly, taking off his visor and trying to coax his hair into an acceptable position while gazing into the mirror above the sink.

"Got caught up with friends after school," John explained as he closed his locker and put on his own visor. "You know how it is."

"Yeah," Kurt said, sounding a little too wistful.

"Well, anyway, see ya later," John said, backing out of the kitchen. Kurt nodded goodbye and sighed to himself, gathering his items from his locker before heading out with the coffee he'd made himself prior to clocking out. As he stepped back out on the floor, he looked out the window and noticed that it had started raining pretty heavily. Deciding he'd rather wait it out than risk having his hair plastered to his forehead for the walk back to the apartment, he settled down into one of the cozy arm chairs by the fireplace, wishing he'd brought a book or magazine for entertainment. He sat there for several minutes, toying with the cardboard sleeve of his cup when something, or someone, rather, caught his eye bustling into the shop.

Blaine. And right behind him, Finn. Kurt took in a sharp breath. He had prepared himself to see Blaine again, but Finn? Finn had never even been to The Lima Bean before, why was he here? And since when did he and Blaine hang out together?

Kurt watched with barely contained curiosity as the two made their way to the counter and ordered their drinks. He tried not to show any expression when the two found a table right next to Kurt's chair and sat down. Kurt tried not to listen in as they started discussing something in slightly hushed voices, but it was no use. He couldn't keep himself from eavesdropping in on the conversation.

"I don't know if I'm ready for tomorrow," Blaine was telling Finn. What's tomorrow? Kurt wondered to himself.

"Me neither," Finn replied. "I mean, I definitely appreciate what Mr. Schue and Figgins and everyone else is trying to do, it's just..." he trailed off, not able to find the right words to express himself.

"It feels wrong," Blaine concluded. "Not because it isn't a nice thing to do, but because there shouldn't be a need for the memorial. Kurt should be here. If Kurt were here, then it would just be another Friday, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Finn agreed, but still looked troubled. He took a tentative sip from his cup and immediately winced. Instinctively, he blew into the little opening in the plastic lid, trying to cool down his drink.

"I can't help feeling like they're all disappointed in us," Blaine said, stirring sugar into his cup. "Especially Mr. Schue. I just don't feel comfortable getting up in front of the whole school and baring my soul to a bunch of strangers about how I felt about Kurt. It's...private, and intense, how I feel. You know?"

"I know, man," Finn said, raising his gaze to look at the other boy. "I don't think I could say anything without having a nervous breakdown, especially since my mom and Burt are going to be there. I'm not even sure I can go."

Kurt was really confused. From the sound of it, it seemed there was going to be a service of some sort at the school tomorrow in Kurt's honor, but why were Finn and Blaine discussing getting up in front of everyone? And why would Mr. Schue, of all people, be disappointed in them?

"I guess we'll just do it like we've done everything else this week," Blaine said after a few minutes of silence. He threw back the remainder of his coffee and stood up from the table. "One second at a time. Are you spending the night tonight?"

Kurt perked up. _What? Since when do Blaine and Finn have sleepovers?_

"Yeah man, if that's cool?" Finn replied, standing up from the table as well. "I promised my mom I'd spend the weekend at home and I'd like just one more night away from the house." Kurt could have sworn that Finn made it sound like he'd been spending every night at Blaine's house. He tried to tamper down the jealousy growing inside of him.

"You know you're always welcome," Blaine answered. "C'mon, it looks like the rain's letting up, let's get out of here." Kurt watched as the two boys left and indeed, the monsoon had quieted to a quiet drizzle. He sat still, absorping what he had heard for a few minutes before remembering that John, his replacement at the front counter, was a student at McKinley. He ditched his cup in the trashcan and strolled as nonchalantly as possible to the counter where John was standing, flipping through a copy of Guitars Monthly.

"Hey, John," Kurt said, the other boy snapping his attention from the magazine to Kurt. "You go to McKinley, right?"

"Uh, yeah?" He answered, sounding confused.

"Is there, um, anything weird happening tomorrow?" Kurt asked awkwardly.

"Um, no, not that I can think of," Kurt's expression started to fall as John appeared to be searching his brain for something. "Oh wait, yeah actually. Did you ever hear about that kid who had his face smashed in by a baseball a couple of weeks ago?"

Kurt winced involuntarily. "Yeah, I think so. Kurt something?" He offered.

"Yeah, well anyway, I think they're having some kind of memorial or something tomorrow afternoon," John said. "It's probably going to be pretty boring, but at least it gets us out of sixth and seventh period, you know?"

Kurt tried not to be offended by John's utter lack of enthusiasm. After all, it was a big school, and Kurt hadn't even known that John went to McKinley until he overheard him talking about it at work earlier in the week.

"Wow, sounds like a snoozefest," Kurt chuckled, trying to sound amiable. "Cool, well, I guess I'll see you later."

"Yep, have a good night, Trevor."

"You too," Kurt answered, turning on his heel and heading for the door. As he walked back to the apartment, he tried to figure out how he was going to explain all this to Declan and convince him that he had to go to the memorial. He had a morbid desire to know what people would say about him, the same desire he had mocked Rachel for expressing a year and a half earlier as she helped him prepare for his first solo audition at Dalton.

He'll understand, Kurt convinced himself as he climbed the stairs to the apartment entrance. He took a deep breath before turning the handle.

_Of course he'll understand._

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't understand, Kurt," Declan threw his hands up in exasperation. "What part of 'this is a horrible idea and you shouldn't do it' isn't getting through to you?"

Obviously, this conversation wasn't going how Kurt had hoped it would.

"Maybe if you explained to me exactly why it's a horrible idea, I would have any easier time understanding your reasoning," Kurt said evenly through gritted teeth. He was trying his best not to lose his cool with Declan again. He certainly didn't want to end up in the same position as last Saturday night.

"Because, Kurt, there is a reason we are constantly telling you not to interfere with your past life," Declan said calmly, almost pleading with Kurt with his tone.

"And yet, all I ever get when I ask about that is a cryptic answer about how devastating it would be for everyone involved. I want a straight answer from you for once, Dec!" Kurt heard his voice go up an octave and closed his eyes, measuring his breath and trying to regain his cool.

"Okay, you want the truth, Kurt? Sit down," Kurt obeyed, taking a seat on the couch next to Declan. Declan turned his body to face Kurt as he began to speak again.

"When you interact with someone with your past life, about your past life, you lose something," He said, noting the growing look of confusion on Kurt's face. Why was this so difficult for him to explain? "It's management's way of making sure you keep your life and afterlife separate. I don't really know how it works, but if you choose to go against it and get involved with them again, you risk losing everything."

"I've already lost everything!" Kurt shouted bitterly. "What's left for me to lose? I have nothing. Is it so bad that I want to hear the good things that people have to say about me? The things that ninety percent of them didn't have the guts or desire to share with me while I was alive? Is that so much to ask?"

"Kurt..." Declan sounded exhausted, defeated. "Fine. I get it. You're going to do what you want and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I really just wish you would trust me on this one, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen." He stood up from the couch, keeping his gaze on Kurt, his eyes filled with sadness.

"You know, I'd like to tell you that when you finally figure out tomorrow what I'm trying to get across to you, after you've already made the mistake of going to that assembly, that you can find someone else's shoulder to cry on," he continued, refusing to let his eyes waiver with Kurt's. "But we both know that's not true. I'll still be here, because despite every reason you've given me not to want to be your friend, I still care about you and I'll still be there to help you pick up the pieces. But maybe someday you can look back at how you're acting. Someday once you've got it all figured out, after ten times the needless heartbreak you're going to experience all because you're too stubborn and too defensive to Goddamn trust me, maybe you'll realize that your words and actions don't just affect you." Declan shook his head sadly before turning and walking back down the hall, willing his eyes to stay dry until he reached the sanctuary of his bedroom.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The next morning, Kurt and Declan barely said two words to each other as they got ready and headed to Maggie's for the morning report meeting. The others noticed a change between the two and throughout the entire meal, Sue was shooting warning looks at Declan while next to her, Annabel was doing the same to Kurt. Laura, true to form, acted completely put out with the whole situation.

"Well, kids," Sue cleared her throat after shutting her day planner. She passed out the sticky notes as she spoke. "Here ya go. These are all early reaps, so you should be done before noon. We do have one later tonight for anyone feeling up to pulling double duty." She scanned the faces of the others, waiting for someone to volunteer.

"No takers?" She said, not looking surprised. She was giving a final passing glance to everyone when Annabel reluctantly raised her hand.

"Fine, I'll do it," She muttered. "But the rest of you owe me."

"Bitch, I don't owe you shit!" Laura said defensively.

"Language!" Annabel scolded. "There's no need for the constant attitude, Lo. Whatever bad thing happened to you as a child, get over it already, because I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm tired of it!"

Laura stood up slightly to lean over the table, getting as close to Annabel's face as possible. "You don't know the first thing about me," She whispered.

"Alright, Tiger, sit back down," Sue said, sounding bored. She grabbed Laura's shoulder and forced her back into the booth next to her. "Whatever is going on between the two of you, get it resolved, preferably somewhere where I don't have to watch." She looked several times between the two women before turning her gaze to startled-looking Kurt and a sheepish Declan.

"And that goes for the two of you also," She said, pointing at Declan. "You two have more teen-angst drama than a cancelled Justin Beiber concert. Now, all of you scatter. Annabel, thank you for taking the extra, I owe you." Annabel flashed her a smile before returning her glare to Laura. All four shuffled slowly out of the booth and headed in separate directions from the restaurant, with the exception of Kurt who followed several steps behind Declan, not quite ready to deal with the awkwardness.

After several blocks, Declan turned around and stopped in front of Kurt.

"Are you at all curious about where we're going and the estimated time of death?" He asked. Kurt looked at his feet for a moment before meeting Declan's gaze.

"Yeah, I guess," He muttered. Declan opened his mouth to launch into another round of trying to convince Kurt to trust him on the assembly issue, but he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere. If anything, he was just going to make him angrier and more set on going. Maybe if he just let the issue be, Kurt would make the decision on his own. With great restraint, he kept his mouth shut and handed the yellow sticky note to Kurt.

"Wow, this is in like, ten minutes," Kurt said, looking between the note and his watch. "Are we going to make it?"

"Yeah, it's right around the corner from here," Declan replied, glad to have a distraction from the other thoughts in his head. "You know that bread factory the next street over?"

"Yeah, but I didn't even know it was still in operation," Kurt answered, looking slightly confused.

"It's not," Declan answered grimly. "I'm guessing our reap is either a homeless guy or some kid ditching school to play on the old equipment."

"Well I guess we're about to find out," Kurt handed the note back to him and started walking on, this time keeping pace with Declan.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The reap had gone as smoothly as could be expected. Declan let Kurt do most of the work, aside from the actual transfer of the soul, which Declan had to do himself per Sue's orders. However, it was Kurt who did the talking afterward as well as the transportation of the man's soul to his afterlife. Declan had been right on his first guess. The guy was homeless and had tried to start a fire in one of the giant mixers leftover from the factory. Kurt felt guilty for being thankful that it wasn't Declan's other guess. He hadn't had to deal with a child dying yet and he wasn't sure that he could do it.

After they were done, Kurt made up a story about having to go run some errands instead of heading back to the apartment. Declan, being undead, knew that Kurt didn't have errands to run and figured that Kurt was just doing his best to avoid him for the rest of the day until the assembly.

"Alright, Kurt," Declan sighed after hearing his pathetic excuse to get away from him. "Just promise me you'll think about what I said last night before you make your decision." He might as well have been waving a white flag of surrender in the air.

"I will, I promise," Kurt replied, a little too quickly. "I'll, um, see you later, okay?" He added, already backing away down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, see you," Declan gave a defeated half-wave before turning and heading in the opposite direction. _Please, please, please let him change his mind,_ he silently begged. If he didn't, Declan knew that both of them were in for a rough night.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt thought about it. He really did. But nonetheless, he found himself sitting on a middle row bleacher near the exit in the McKinley High School Gymnasium, watching his former classmates shuffle past them. Some of them were laughing and cutting up, but the majority seemed to have some respect for the solemnity of the occasion and stayed silent as they found their seats.

Kurt felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched his dad and Carole enter the gym. They both looked terrible and worn out as they scanned the faintly lit gymnasium with slight concern etched into their features. Kurt saw Mr. Schue hop up from his seat on the front, center row and go over to meet the couple. After exchanging a few words that Kurt strained to hear but couldn't, the three walked back and sat down on the bleacher. Kurt didn't have time to dwell on the emotions welling up inside of him at seeing his father for the first time since the funeral reception as the lights blinked several times and Principal Figgins approached the microphone set up in the middle of the gym floor.

"Children," he said, tapping on the mic several times. "Settle down, children. We are coming together today to celebrate the life of Kurt Hummel. I'd like to invite Mr. William Schuester up to start us off." He cleared his throat once before gesturing to Mr. Schue and yielding the microphone to him.

"I'd like to thank all of you for coming today," _I'm sure they all had a choice,_ Kurt thought skeptically as his former glee club instructor spoke. "Kurt meant a lot to all of us and so many of you have come to me in the last few days wanting to say a few words in remembrance of him. So without taking up any more time with my rambling, let's get started." Mr. Schue left the center of the floor and found his seat as Mercedes and Tina walked up to the microphone.

Kurt held back tears as he watched his former friends struggle to speak without crying. They shared of their favorite memories of times with Kurt before turning and speaking directly to Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. Tears finally spilled over as he watched the two girls offer their condolences to his dad and stepmom before walking over and giving them both a hug. Burt Hummel accepted the hugs, but Kurt noticed the tortured look on his face. This had to be so hard for him. Kurt wanted nothing more than to run over and join the hugfest, but he refrained.

After the girls, more kids came up, some alone and some in groups to share memories of Kurt. Most of them were from the New Directions or the Cheerios. A few made Kurt angry, since they were some of the kids that had bullied him for years but were now acting like they'd been his best friends, but he decided to let those feelings go. What good would it do to get angry? Maybe now they would treat the other kids they bullied differently, knowing that life is unpredictable and sometimes cut short.

Kurt glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that almost two hours had past and there was only a few minutes left in the assembly. As he was checking the time, he heard a shuffling coming from the floor and looked up to see Blaine approaching the mic, guitar neck in one hand and a folding chair in the other. He set the chair down in front of the stand and lowered the microphone before sitting down and adjusting the guitar on his lap.

Blaine looked out into the crowd and opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Kurt felt his hands clenching as he watched his love struggle to keep his composure. Blaine closed his mouth and eyes, lowering his head for a moment. Kurt mimicked the gesture, feeling such pain for the other boy's struggle. Suddenly, Kurt heard a familiar tune being plucked on the guitar.

Kurt had felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the past, but this was a completely different feeling. The air was being sucked out of his body, not just through his throat, but through his hands and feet, through his pores and the ends of his hair. His eyes shot open as every inch of his skin prickled with electricity before his brain had even registered what his ears were hearing.

_Hold my heart when I go_  
Sing my song when I go  
Sing it loud when I go  
Sing it proud when I go 

Kurt watched as Blaine sung the words that had become so familiar to him over the years. It was a secret that Kurt guarded carefully, one that no one knew about except Blaine.

_Some people are learning to die_  
And some people are yearning to fly  
But I know I'll be yearning to fly 

He didn't hold this secret so closely to himself because it was scandalous. He held it because it was sacred. He recalled the moment of loving vulnerability, wrapped in Blaine's arms one night after they'd made love, when Kurt told him about the song he sang to himself over and over again. The song that had consoled him after his mom died, the one he pretend she sang to him night after night as he struggled to fall asleep.

_When my soul_  
Takes leave of this world  
When I leave this flesh and these bones  
Oh I swear to you that you won't have to go alone 

It was a promise that Kurt's mom made to him. She knew she was dying and she tried her best to spare her only child from the heartache that would follow by promising him she'd watch over him. Once Kurt was older and a little less trusting, once he'd turned his back on any belief in God or heaven, this song was his last hold-out. When he listened to the words, he could almost believe that it was true.

_The first time my heart collided with yours_  
You know I felt the ocean tickle the earth's sandy shores  
But changes come and we both know that we can't, we can't stop them  
But I hold these memories and I will never drop them 

Kurt was broken from his shock long enough to register the emotions surging through Blaine as he sang. His stare was intense at times, at other times almost vacant. His voice had remained fairly steady but Kurt could tell it was with great effort that he remained that way. He watched a slow quiver in the other boy's knee as he played from memory the song that Kurt had introduced him to that night.

_And I'll watch over you_  
I'll watch over you  
Oh my care will cover you just like the morning dew 

_Hold this heart when I go_  
Sing my song when I go  
Sing it loud when I go  
Sing it proud when I go 

Kurt dropped his gaze from Blaine and sought out his father's face in the audience. Although he'd never talked to his dad about his secret song, he had to wonder if the elder Hummel found any significance in the song choice. Surely he'd grown accustomed to hearing it wafting through the house, slightly muffled by Kurt's closed bedroom door. Did he recognize it, though? Was he listening to the words and thinking about the promises his first wife had made to him and Kurt? Kurt silently begged that he would find in his heart that this was Kurt's song to him too.

_Oh the thought of death has yet to make me afraid_  
Cause I will march right off of this world into the next  
Like it's a grand parade 

_But if you feel lonely just like you want to run and hide_  
Then I'll wrap my wings around you and give you strength  
And I won't leave your side 

If Kurt had blinked, he might have missed it. Even still, he wondered if it had been a trick of the light or his imagination, but before he could dwell on it for too long, it was back. It was a small smile, a small brightness in Blaine's eyes. To Kurt, it looked like the embodiment of hope. He still looked sad, tired and worn-out, but it was as if Blaine had taken Kurt's comfort in the song and adopted it as his own.

It was then that Kurt realized that Blaine wasn't singing for him, or his memory. He was singing for himself. Kurt felt his heart surge in his chest as his love for Blaine grew even deeper than he thought possible.

_I'll watch over you_  
I'll watch over you  
You know I'd like to get to heaven  
You know I'd love to see the view  
But first I think I'll stay and watch over you 

Kurt took a deep shuddering breath, knowing the song was coming to an end. So many thoughts and feelings were coursing through him, he didn't even know where to start sorting them. Seeing Blaine and his father and all of his friends had been wonderful and devastating at the same time. He felt a familiar rise in his stomach as he tried to keep his composure. He knew that the moment he got out of the auditorium, he wouldn't be able to hold it together any longer. As he shakily rose to his feet, he prayed that he'd make it out of the door without collapsing.

_Oh I'll watch over you  
I'll watch over you_

Blaine played the last few notes of the song as he looked out into the audience for the first time since he started playing. Immediately his eyes landed on a new, but familiar face. For a second, he couldn't figure out where he knew him from, but as the boy climbed gingerly out of the bleachers and bolted for the exit, Blaine finally remembered. It was the new guy from the coffee shop. The one who gave him a weird, but not unpleasant vibe. The one who had been sitting near him yesterday as he and Finn discussed the assembly. The one who Blaine was almost positive didn't attend McKinley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: When I Go, by Brett Dennen


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Kurt let out a sob the moment he was in the hallway. Leaned up against a row of lockers, he could hear the muffled sounds of the assembly drawing to a close. He did his best to calm himself down, at least enough so that he could walk out of there before the double doors were thrown wide and students began pouring out. With great effort, he pushed off the wall and made his way to the exit, stopping only briefly to brush his fingers across his old, unadorned locker.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine gave one passing glance over the silent gymnasium full of students and faculty before standing up and making his way out of the room. He didn't know what he was expecting when he played that song. It was the only thing he could think of to do for Kurt. Blaine had felt so special when Kurt trusted him with it. He hadn't quite understood the full significance of it until he sat down to play it that afternoon. About three quarters of the way through, a peace settled over him, and suddenly Kurt's near obsession with it made complete sense. It was comforting to think that Kurt might be out there, watching over him, at least until Blaine found his footing in the world again.

And now he felt his feet carrying him out of the gymnasium. He didn't intend to bolt after the performance, in fact if anything that would draw even more attention to Blaine and how Blaine was coping with his loss, which he definitely didn't want. But he had an intense urge to follow the boy from the coffee shop. Travis, was it? Blaine had noticed him sitting in the shop yesterday and as luck would have it, Finn chose a table right next to the overstuffed chair where the other boy sat, taking small sips from his coffee. The way his ear inclined to them, the suppressed movement of his eyebrows and the well-timed intakes of breath made it obvious to Blaine that the boy was eavesdropping on their conversation.

 _But why?_ Blaine asked himself then, and again now, when the boy's presence at the assembly made things even more confusing. _Did he know Kurt? Was there something going on between the two of them?_ Blaine pushed that last thought away with ease. Kurt wouldn't do that to Blaine and besides, when were the two ever apart lately? _Lately,_ Blaine thought with a hint of bitter sadness. _I guess I can't use 'lately' anymore._

As he pushed the metal bar to open the door, he scanned the hallway from left to right for any sign of the boy, but the hall was quiet and empty. He strained to listen for retreating footsteps in either direction, but there were none. Sighing heavily, Blaine started down the hallway in the direction of the junior parking lot. The bell would be ringing in less than five minutes, but with all the teachers still in the gym, he figured he could sneak out before being bombarded by everyone else.

Finn was going home with his family, what was left of it anyway, for the weekend like he'd promised his mom. Blaine had no issue admitting that he'd miss the company, the companionship, the bond he'd built with Finn over the week. Sometimes they didn't even have to talk. Just sitting in comfortable silence was enough to keep all the negative feelings at bay. He imagined that at any other time, under different circumstances, people would think the sudden friendship and co-dependency was weird. Some might even make cracks about a romantic relationship, but for now people stayed silent, either understanding that the boys needed each other or reserving their judgment until such a time that the bond was no longer expected.

Blaine trudged out to the parking lot and threw his guitar in the trunk. As he settled into the driver's seat, a profound loneliness washed over him. His mom had offered to attend the assembly, but Blaine asked her not to. He didn't know what would happen, whether he'd make it through in one piece or not, and if things didn't go well, he didn't want her to see it. He felt like he'd put her through enough the last couple of weeks, and he desperately wanted her to think he was improving. He wanted to think things were getting better too, and overall, they seemed to be. The daily tasks of life were becoming less burdensome, less exhausting and every now and then, Blaine found himself smiling, even laughing over something. Sometimes Kurt would pop into his mind and he would have a hard time remembering how long it had been since he last thought of him.

But now, sitting in his empty car, he desperately wanted Finn there. Selfishly, he wished Finn hadn't promised his mother he'd come home. Blaine felt guilty for even entertaining that thought for a moment. What his mom and Kurt's dad must have been going through, Blaine could not begin to imagine. He just wanted his friend back.

Blaine contemplated calling Wes or one of the other Warblers. They were supposed to hang out tomorrow and although he was slightly nervous about it, he was also excited to see everyone again. He just hoped that they wouldn't act as weird as his friends at McKinley. The bond he held with the Warblers was deeper, more personal than that with the kids of New Directions. He liked them both equally, but each set of friends provided Blaine with something different, they each met a different need in Blaine and he was hoping that the Warblers would be able to meet his needs now.

Blaine fiddled with his phone for a few minutes before dropping it into the passenger seat. He didn't want to call them right then, his emotions were still too raw. Instead, he turned the ignition and began driving. At first, he had every intention of going home, but then an idea struck him. Making a left turn to take him off the path toward his house, he began making his way to The Lima Bean.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Kurt made it back to the apartment, his emotions had calmed down quite a bit, curiously to the point where he could hardly remember why he was so upset in the first place. Turning the handle to the door, Kurt cautiously peered in, as if expecting Declan to attack him in a fury for ignoring his advice. Instead, he found Declan sitting on the couch, feet perched on the coffee table, while he flipped through a magazine.

"So?" Declan asked, looking up at Kurt. "Did you go?" Kurt noticed a lack of anger or frustration in Declan's questions, which confused him. Even more confusing was the sad tentativeness in his voice.

"Um, yeah," Kurt answered quietly. He remained standing by the door, afraid to move to much closer. "It was…" he struggled to find the right words. What was the assembly? Kurt searched his brain, trying to identify what it was he was feeling about the memorial, what he'd felt as he made his way home, but it was like a thick fog had settled in his mind, rendering him incapable of recalling the event.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Declan stood up now, walking over to the other boy and guiding him to the couch. As the two sat down again, Declan spoke. "Did you lose something?"

"I can't…I know I went, and I remember seeing everyone there, but…" Kurt murmured, almost to himself more than Declan.

"The memories are gone," Declan filled in the blank for Kurt as the boy looked at him with dry, sad eyes. Both were silent for a few minutes as all the things Declan had been trying to explain to him all week started finally to fall into place.

"So this is what you meant," Kurt said, a slight sadness in his voice. "The more I try to hold on to my old life, the more of it I lose. How fucked up is that?" He turned slowly to Declan.

"I'm so sorry," Declan began. He knew they would be having this conversation, and surprisingly, Kurt was handling it better than he would have imagined. Then again, Kurt had no idea what he'd lost. "It's how They keep everything in alignment, how They make sure there isn't any crossover. It's fucked up, but there isn't anything we can do about it."

"What if I wrote my memories down?" Kurt asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. So far his schemes in the afterlife had been far from successful. "That way, I'd always have them."

"It doesn't work that way," Declan explained. "Do you remember that trip to Paris when you were ten?"

Kurt furrowed his brow. "I've never been overseas."

"Well, I could tell you all about the things you did and the sights you saw, but if you had no memory of it, it wouldn't matter, would it? It would be like me telling you a fairy tale about a boy named Kurt who went to Paris."

"That makes sense," Kurt conceded. He didn't really know what to say next, so he kept quiet. He could feel Declan's eyes on him, but it didn't make him uncomfortable. After a few minutes of silence, Kurt began to feel his eyelids droop slightly. Without thinking, he leaned into Declan, curling himself into a ball. He wrapped his arm around his waist and breathed in Declan's scent. With his head on the other boy's chest, Kurt could hear and feel Declan's heart speed up. Several seconds later, Kurt felt Declan's body relaxed as he brought his arm down and began stroking Kurt's back lightly. Within a few minutes, Kurt fell into a murky, dreamless sleep.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine entered the shop, hoping to find the mysterious boy behind the counter. Blaine thought that maybe he'd rushed out of the assembly in order to make it to work on time, but it didn't appear that he was here. At the register was Natalie, the manager of the shop, who over the last few years, had gotten to know Blaine and his coffee order by heart.

"Hey Natalie," Blaine greeted as he approached the counter. The shop was nearly empty, in that lull between lunch and school getting out. The woman looked up and a small smile danced on her lips.

"Hey you, just the regular today?" She asked, already reaching for a paper cup.

"No, actually, I just stopped by to ask you something," Blaine replied. Natalie set the cup back down, looking a little concerned. She was aware of the tragedy involving Kurt, the other boy who came with Blaine almost every other day until a couple of weeks ago. She hadn't said anything to Blaine about it, not even to offer her condolences because she sensed that it would have been the last thing Blaine wanted from her. In her mind, Blaine wanted his coffee and a haven away from how the rest of the world was treating him right now, and she was more than willing to offer that.

"There's a new guy that's working here," Blaine began, searching her face for a signal.

"Yeah, Trevor? He's been great, a real lifesaver. A little spacey, but…" Natalie trailed off, watching Blaine and waiting for him to get to the point.

"Okay, Trevor," Blaine replied. He knew it had been something like that. "Do you know anything about him? Like, does he go to school somewhere, or is he from around here?" Blaine wasn't sure what kind of information he was hoping for, he just needed to know more about him.

"You know, honestly I have no clue," Natalie admitted. "The truth is, he just happened to come here looking for a job at the right time. I hired him on the spot. He doesn't talk too much about his life, he seems to be the private type. But he's very nice, and…" Natalie hesitated, wondering whether she should finish her sentence.

"And?" Blaine prompted, seeing the conflicted look on her face.

"I guess I was just going to say that I think he's interested in you," Natalie registered the look of surprise on Blaine's face. "Last Saturday when you were in here with your Dalton friend, he spent almost the whole time staring at you. I had to fuss at him three times to get him to work. Have you two talked at all?"

"No," Blaine answered. If it was possible, he was even more confused now than he had been after the assembly. "That's the thing, I've only seen him here a couple of times, but it's not like we've talked or anything. There's just something about him that I can't put my finger on."

"Well," Natalie sighed, peering over Blaine's shoulder as a couple walked in the door and started making their way to the counter. "Apparently there's something about you too, because Trevor seemed mighty interested in you. I'll keep my ears open for you, okay?" She smiled conspiratorially at Blaine, who returned the gesture.

"Thanks, Nat, I'll see you around." Blaine turned on his heel and headed back out of the shop. As he got to the door, he realized he forgot to ask her when Trevor worked again, but when he turned around, she was already in the process of taking the couple's order, so he decided to head out. After all, he'd be back tomorrow for his Saturday visit. Maybe he'd run into Trevor, and perhaps he could start getting the answers to some of the questions floating around in his head. At least it gave him something else to focus on.

As Blaine walked back to his car, he began humming the song he played at the assembly, promising himself that when he got home he'd play it again, knowing that it would bring him a measure of comfort.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Kurt awoke, his mind shifting easily between the dream world and consciousness. It had been the first completely peaceful night of sleep he'd had in over a week and despite how exhausted he'd felt the night before, he found waking up to be less of a chore than usual. He laid there for a few minutes, awake, but not quite ready to open his eyes.

It took him several seconds to realize that he wasn't on the couch like usual. This surface was much firmer, but softer to the touch. It didn't sag in the middle or create painful pressure points where the cushions on the couch connected. He was definitely in a bed and a very comfortable one at that. He stretched his legs out until they were fully extended and was pleased to find that the bottoms of his feet weren't met with an arm rest, halting his movement mid-stretch. Instead, his toes curled just slightly over the end of the bed, poking out from underneath the blanket.

With a little effort, Kurt finally squinted his eyes open, not knowing exactly what to expect. Obviously he was in Declan's bed, but aside from that detail, he wasn't sure what he'd find. As his eyes opened, he was met with the wall to the right side of the bed. Enough light was leaking through the window for him to be able to make out the details of the room. Rolling over quietly, Kurt scanned the bed. He was alone. _That's weird,_ Kurt thought to himself. Well, it was weird that he was in Declan's bed to begin with, but if Kurt was here, where was Declan?

On slightly shaky legs, Kurt stood up from the bed and gave one last long stretch before stumbling out of the room into the hallway. He contemplated making a pit stop in the bathroom, but decided to try to locate Declan first. As he exited the hallway into the living room, he saw something that brought a small smile to his lips. Declan was curled up on the couch, neck at a painful-looking angle and snoring softly. Kurt watched the thin blanket rise and fall gently with the other boy's breaths and he briefly wondered how they'd switched sleeping arrangements last night.

He remembered coming home in a fog. He remembered explaining to Declan how he'd lost his memories at the assembly, but that was about it. They had been sitting on the couch talking, and then…what? At some point Kurt ended up in the bedroom and Declan on the couch, but at least for now, those details were a mystery to him.

It occurred to Kurt that with the light streaming into the room from outside that it had to be morning. Glancing over at the wall clock, Kurt saw that it was about seven thirty in the morning, a half hour until they were supposed to be at Maggie's for the morning report meeting. _I'm glad I woke up,_ Kurt thought, since it appeared that neither of them bothered setting an alarm. He watched Declan for a few more seconds before crouching down at the couch near Declan's head to wake him up.

"Dec," he said softly, rubbing the other boys shoulder. "Rise and shine, we have to get up."

"Who—wha?" Declan sat up with a jolt, obviously as confused by his surroundings as Kurt had been when he woke up a few minutes earlier. "Oh, Kurt," he mumbled, finally starting to wake up. "What, um…what time is it?"

"It's seven thirty, we have to get going or we're going to be late for Sue," Kurt said, standing up and extending a hand to him. Declan accepted it and with Kurt's help, pulled himself into a sitting position. His shirt was twisted and bunched up on one side, leaving the left side of his ribcage exposed. Kurt caught a glimpse of a tattoo before quickly averting his eyes so as not to appear to be staring.

"So, why are you on the couch?" Kurt asked with a slight, playful chuckle.

"Huh? Oh," Declan looked confused, but shook his head vigorously, as if trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. _Man, he's hard to wake up,_ Kurt thought. "Well, you were just so tired last night and I figured you could use a decent night sleep. And after spending the night on this couch, I've determined that would have been impossible for you to do if you were out here. Why didn't you tell me it was this lumpy?"

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, it's not that bad. I mean, you are letting me stay here for free and all…" he trailed off and started to blush as Declan broke out into a laugh.

"Kurt," he said, once he was able to stifle his giggling. "You do realize we're squatting here, right?"

"Oh yeah," he muttered, slightly embarrassed. "How could I forget?" Kurt turned around and trudged toward the bathroom before turning around and remembering his manners.

"Hey thanks for letting me have the bed," He said, crossing his arms subconsciously over his chest. "You didn't have to do that and I feel kinda bad that you slept on the couch."

Declan stood up and rolled his neck around a few times, wincing as he did, to loosen it up. "No biggie, we'll um, figure something out from here on out. You know, sleeping arrangement-wise." Kurt nodded and turned around to head into the bathroom. Declan waited until the door closed to head to the bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes.

The night before, Kurt had fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he curled into him. Declan stroked his back lightly, listening to the deep, even breaths of the boy he was beginning to care very deeply for. They stayed that way for a long time, but eventually Declan decided he needed some sleep as well. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, since Kurt was doing his first official reaping.

Declan shifted as softly as possible trying to get in a position to better assess the situation. Kurt breathing didn't even falter. Wow, he's really out, Declan thought to himself. He sat on the edge of the couch, contemplating the way Kurt was now leaning against the couch. When he stood up and put his arms underneath Kurt in a basket hold, he had intended just to stretch Kurt out on the couch so that he wouldn't be cramped up in the morning. But his brain could process what he was doing, his arms were lifting the boy up off the couch. Declan was surprised at how light Kurt was in his arms. Still not waking, Kurt rolled his head over so that it was resting on Declan's chest again. Declan stood still for a moment, making sure that Kurt was going to stay asleep, before carrying him gingerly to the bedroom.

Approaching the bed, he laid Kurt's body down gently. Kurt immediately rolled over on his side and hugged the pillow. Declan thought it was kind of endearing the way Kurt seemed to need to be latched on to something as he slept. Picking the blanket up, he laid it carefully over the sleeping boy, tucking it in slightly at the edges.

The thought of crawling in next Kurt briefly flitted through Declan's mind, but just as soon as it entered, it dissipated with the knowledge that Kurt would probably be more than a little uncomfortable waking up in bed next to him. Sighing heavily with a bit of self-satisfaction at the restraint he was showing, he made his way back out to the couch and laid down to rest.

The couch was horrible. Declan wondered how Kurt slept on it every night without complaint. After much tossing and turning, he finally fell into a light sleep, waking up every so often, each time with a bit of confusion as to where he was. The last time, he'd been woken up by Kurt and for a brief moment, he'd thought it was an angel in front of him.

Declan paused, arms in mid-air as he was throwing a fresh shirt on. _Stop it,_ he told himself, breaking himself out of the reverie. _This is crazy and you have to snap out of it. Kurt is not an option. Not now anyway, and maybe not ever. Either way you have to stop_. Declan finished putting his clothes on and stepped out of the room. Kurt was already out of the bathroom.

As Declan headed into the bathroom, he chanced a glance down the short hallway into the living room. Kurt was in there, shirtless, with his back to him. He was unfolding a shirt and preparing to throw it over his head. Declan admired the way his slight muscles shifted underneath the skin with his arm movements.

Before he could dwell on it any more, he tore his eyes away from the scene and went into the bathroom, closing the door a little more forcefully than was necessary. Turning the cold water on full blast, he splashed his face several times, trying to jolt his brain into cooperation. _What did I just tell you?_ He scolded himself. _Stop. Now._

"Dec?" he heard Kurt's muffled voice call from the other side of the door. "You ready? We're going to be late."

"Coming!" He shouted back, giving himself one last warning look in the mirror before heading out to join Kurt.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours later, Kurt found himself on the doorstep of 51 Hummingbird Avenue, standing next to Declan. They'd received the reaping assignment from Sue earlier that morning, and had spent the next few hours trying to prepare Kurt for his first official reaping. Thankfully, Kurt had the foresight to ask off from work for the whole day, just in case things didn't go well. As it was, Kurt was definitely nervous, although the only thing different from this reap compared to the others is that he would be taking the soul rather than Declan and thank goodness Declan was there for back up. Kurt didn't think he would have been able to handle it alone.

"You ready?" Declan asked, giving Kurt what he hoped was an encouraging smile. In reality, Declan was quite nervous himself. Not because of the reap necessarily, but because of the sheer intensity and suddenness of the emotions he was feeling for Kurt since the night before. Sure, he'd felt something toward Kurt from the first time they met, but last night had done something to Declan and it scared the crap out of him.

"Yeah, I think so," Kurt said, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. "But what are we going to do? Ring the doorbell and say, 'hi, we're here to take your soul'?"

Declan chuckled and reached over to ring the doorbell. "Just follow my lead."

At the sound of the bell, the boys heard a dog start yipping from another part of the house. Within seconds, the sound of nails skittering over hardwood flooring brought the shrill barking closer. A few seconds later, heavier and obviously human footsteps seemed to be approaching. They hear several locks being worked and the door finally creaked open, revealing a kind-looking, elderly woman.

"Yes, can I help you boys?" She said with a tentative smile.

"Yes ma'am," Declan plastered on a smile. "My name is Roger and this is Danny," he said, indicating first to himself and then Kurt. "And we're here to talk to you about Jesus."

Kurt's head whipped over to Declan with such intensity, Declan was surprised it didn't just pop off of his shoulders. To his credit though, Kurt regained his composure fairly quickly, returning his gaze to the woman, who was looking between the two expectantly.

"Well, my heavens," She said after a few moments. "What a pleasant surprise! Would you like to come in?"

 _Jackpot._ "That would be lovely," Declan answered. She stepped back and opened the door wider, accepting Declan and then Kurt into the house.

"Would you boys care for some lemonade?" She asked as she shut the door, working the locks more out of habit than anything. Declan nudged Kurt and nodded silently toward the woman's back, indicating that it was time for him to take over the conversation.

"That sounds perfect, Ms., um…" Kurt trailed off. He'd memorized the name on the post-it, but he wanted to make sure they had the right person just in case.

"Roddenberry. Hilda Roddenberry," She answered.

"Well Ms. Roddenberry," Kurt smiled, relieved that this was in fact their target. He stuck out his hand to her and she accepted it. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Kurt watched with a shudder as the wispy, silvery form of her soul wafted away from her hand into Kurt's. He'd seen the process with Declan and the other reapers several times now, but to experience it himself was a completely different feeling. Declan shook hands with her before she pointed out the living room to them.

"You two have a seat right there in the parlor and I'll be right back with some refreshments," She smiled. "It's so nice to have an unexpected visit from a couple of young folks doing the Lord's work."

Kurt had to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. The wince from the impact of his teeth against his bottom lip must have looked like a smile to the woman because she patted his arm slightly before turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

"If only she knew," Kurt muttered under his breath to Declan as they sat side-by-side on an overstuffed loveseat. "What time is it?"

"One more minute," Declan reassured, glancing at his watch. They could hear rattling from an ice tray in the kitchen and Kurt was mulling over the different ways Ms. Roddenberry might meet her fate when Declan poked him in the ribs.

"Ow! What?" He said, arching his back and rubbing his side, giving Declan an annoyed look.

"Look," Declan pointed to the foyer and up at a chandelier. Kurt squinted until he saw the movement and shuddered.

"Graveling," He hissed. It was only his third or fourth time seeing one, but each time, it creeped him out. This one was standing on the chandelier, making it swing slightly. It sounded like it was snickering to, as it looked back in the direction of the kitchen, as if in anticipation.

Kurt took a deep breath as he heard steps coming from the kitchen. "Alright boys, here we go," Ms. Roddenberry announced as she began walking out of the kitchen. Kurt watched as the graveling swung the chandelier back and forth several times, until, when she was directly below it, the graveling jumped up and came back down with such force that the chandelier snapped free of its cable, landing on Ms. Roddenberry and sending her body crumpling to the floor. Kurt was still watching in slight, but quickly diminishing horror when he heard a voice coming from his left.

"My heavens, what a mess!" Kurt turned to see Ms. Roddenberry sitting in a rocking chair next to the loveseat. She appeared to be fretting over the spilled lemonade and cookies more than her own lifeless body. "I always knew that thing wasn't secured properly," she tsked.

"Ms. Roddenberry?" Kurt asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Well, I don't know dear," She answered, looking between him and her body lying in the foyer. "I suppose I'm dead now?"

"Yes ma'am," Kurt answered, with a true twinge of sympathy. "You'll be headed off soon. Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?"

"Oh dear," she answered, bringing a shaky hand to her forehead. "Would you mind terribly picking those cookies up before Princess gets a hold of them?"

"Sure thing Ms. R," Declan answered, standing up from the loveseat and scooping up the cookies in the hallway. He faltered a bit when Princess, an apparently hungry and ill-tempered shih tzu growled at him and tried to snap a cookie out of his hand. Kurt and the woman watched the scene before a glimmer off in the room opposite the foyer caught his eye.

The glimmer was the light of the next world. Everyone's lights looked different, and they took the form of how each individual viewed heaven. Ms. Roddenberry's lights formed a serene lake, with a park bench and ducks milling around.

"I think they're ready for you," Kurt stood up and took her hand with a smile. She followed him without question as he led her over to the lights. She smiled back at him once before fearlessly stepping into them. She was enveloped by the lights and with a brief flash they were gone. Kurt watched the empty space for a few moments before turning around to find Declan standing behind him.

"Well that was…" Kurt started bravely, but trailed off. It had been a fairly easy reap, but still intense for Kurt as he realized that this was what his life meant now, this was his duty.

"You did a great job," Declan reassured, walking up to Kurt and pulling him into a tight hug. "Why don't we go get some lunch?"

"Sounds good, but I'm all out of cash," Kurt answered, patting his pockets for effect.

"No worries," Declan grinned sheepishly, holding up a wad of cash.

"Where did you—never mind, I don't want to know," Kurt waved him off, heading for the front door. Declan fell in step behind him. "And, 'we're here to talk to you about Jesus'? Really?"

Declan laughed a bit but didn't speak as they headed out of the house, closing the door softly behind them.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Blaine was beginning to get frustrated. He'd gone to The Lima Bean for the past three days and still hadn't run into Trevor. When he went Saturday at his usual time, Natalie told him that Trevor had asked for the day off and would be in on Sunday, but when he came back the next day, Trevor had left early, something having to do with his sick grandmother.

Now it was Monday afternoon, and Natalie told him with sincere regret in her eyes that Trevor had been there that day, but his shift ended an hour prior and although she tried to make an excuse to get him to hang around, he was pretty adamant about needing to be elsewhere.

"Blaine, I'm sorry," she told him when she saw his disappointment. "He's scheduled again tomorrow until seven, so he _should_ be here when you get out of school. C-can I ask you something though, without you getting defensive?"

Blaine hesitated briefly. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. "Of course."

"Why do you want to see him so badly? I mean, Kurt—"

"I-I just, there's something….I just need to figure something out," Blaine cut her off. He spoke softly, as if trying to convince himself of his intentions more than Natalie. Of course he still thought of Kurt constantly. It had only been a few weeks since his life had changed so dramatically.

In some weird way, it was almost like he was drawn to Trevor because of Kurt. There was something about the way he held himself, the way he looked at Blaine that seemed so intimate, so personal. And then seeing the boy at Kurt's memorial assembly…he just had to know more about this Trevor guy. That was it.

"Okay, okay," Natalie conceded gently, putting her hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to pry, I just…I worry about you, Blaine. You're my best customer and I…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say next. It's not like they were close friends, it was a business relationship, but seeing the pain in Blaine's eyes day in and day out for the past couple of weeks brought out her motherly, protective side.

"I know," Blaine smiled at her and reached out to squeeze her hand. "And I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine and I know what I'm doing." Both he and Natalie noticed the falter in his speech and both chose to ignore it.

"So how about that medium drip?"

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the weekend went fairly smoothly for Kurt. He had his second official reap on Sunday, which Declan came along on. Kurt wasn't looking forward to the day when he'd have to start doing the reaps alone, but Declan had assured him that as long as they didn't have to be at two different places at the same time, he would accompany Kurt for as long as he needed or wanted.

It was Tuesday morning now, and Kurt was just leaving the report meeting at Maggie's on his way to work. It was a long shift today, ten hours, and Kurt was dreading spending that much time on his feet. It was a light reaping day, only Declan and Annabel received assignments, which Kurt was silently grateful for. Just because he was starting to develop a real knack for taking people's souls, it didn't mean that he enjoyed it.

As he walked the five blocks to the coffee shop, Kurt began thinking about his shift the day before. The last few days, Natalie had been trying to get him to stay later and later, for some reason. The shop didn't seem any busier than usual, but there was almost desperation in her voice as she tried to coax him into hanging around. Each time, he'd had to leave, either for a reaping or a report meeting, and he felt guilty for not being able to help out. She understood that he had other obligations of course, but it made him wonder what she was getting at.

As he made his way into the shop, he made eye contact with Natalie and waved in greeting. She waved back, looking relieved to have help with the morning rush. He hurried to the back to drop his stuff off and put on his visor and apron before stepping back out to the front to begin taking orders.

"Hey you," Natalie greeted, sounding relieved. "You got here just in time, I just got a phone order for twenty iced coffees."

"Wow, we're hitting the ground running today, aren't we?" Kurt replied, making preparations for the order.

"Speak for yourself, Trevor, I've been here since five," She gave him a light punch on the arm before reaching for the ice scoop.

"Yeah, that reminds me of something I've been meaning to ask you," Kurt paused and turned to her. "Do you actually leave this place ever, or do you just have a sleeping bag in the manager's office?"

"Ha ha," she laughed sarcastically. "I do leave every couple of days, I'll have you know. After all, someone has to feed my cat." Kurt smiled at her and the two finished working on the order in comfortable silence.

The rest of the day was easy compared to that first half hour and during the lulls of customer traffic, Natalie did her best to find out more about Trevor without rousing his suspicions.

She asked him if he had any siblings. One older, a brother named Nathan.

Any pets? No, he didn't want the responsibility.

School? Had graduated high school the year before and was taking a break before deciding about college.

Girlfriend? No, definitely not.

…Boyfriend? No, and why was she asking?

"Okay Natalie, what's with the game of twenty questions?" Kurt finally asked. She was getting at something and he was bound and determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Alright, I'm sorry," She said, looking up at him guiltily. "I'm…"

"Look, I'm not upset or anything, I'm just trying to figure out your angle here."

"Fine," she started, taking a deep breath. "But you have to promise not to say anything or act any differently, okay?"

"I solemnly swear," Kurt said with mock sincerity.

"Okay, so you know that guy who comes in here a lot?" _Blaine,_ Kurt thought immediately. "The one with the dark curly hair, usually gelled back? He always orders a medium drip and sits right over there?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe?" Kurt answered vaguely. Of course he knew from the moment she opened her mouth that she was talking about Blaine, but he didn't want her to know that.

"Trevor, don't play stupid." Of course she saw right through that. Kurt was starting to feel trapped slightly by her accusation. "I know you know who I'm talking about, every time he's in here, all you do is stare at him."

"Okay, fine," He conceded. "What about him?"

"Well, his name is Blaine and…"

"And?"

"And I think he might be interested in you," she said quickly, as if the words were burning her tongue on the way out. Kurt drew in a sharp breath and tried unsuccessfully to hide the emotions that played on his features.

"But it's complicated," She continued, wringing her hands and starting to regret initiating this conversation. It really wasn't any of her business to meddle in, and now she was having to share with him much more about Blaine's personal life than she really had a right to. "H-he just lost someone, his boyfriend and I'm worried that—"

"Natalie, stop," Kurt said, holding his hand out. "Please. I'm sorry, but I just can't have this conversation with you. He may be interested but…" Kurt swallowed thickly, trying his hardest to suppress the tears that threatened to cloud his vision.

"I'm not interested in him," He lied, turning on his heel and mumbling something about having to use the restroom.

Natalie stood in her place in mild shock and embarrassment. As the door to the kitchen shut behind him, she slammed her fist down on the stainless steel countertop, causing the appliances to rattle. She could have kicked herself for sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. Of course, she 'd just been trying to help, but now she had an obviously upset (albeit for reasons unbeknownst to her) employee on her hands who had just received intimate details from her about a customer, which may or may not have been accurate in the first place. Sure, it looked like Blaine was interested in Trevor romantically, but what if it was something else, some completely different reason that Blaine wanted to learn more about Trevor.

 _Okay,_ she mentally steeled herself, trying to regain her composure. _When he gets back out here, I will fix this, I'll just say—_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Trevor coming back through the door, looking somewhat calmer than he had when he left a few minutes earlier.

"Alright, here's what's going to happen," He said, walking up to her and looking her straight in the eyes. She nodded silently. "We're going to pretend the last ten minutes never happened. You never brought up Blaine and we never talked about this. Okay?"

"Okay," she managed to squeak out with a measure of relief. He nodded once, resolutely and turned back to his register, waiting to take the next customer's order.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine was anxious for the bell to ring, signifying the end of the school day. He was bound and determined to see Trevor at the coffee shop and since he was scheduled to work until seven, there really wasn't anything standing in his way this time.

After spending the weekend at his own house, Finn had arrived at Blaine's on Sunday evening, a week's worth of school clothes in tow. Blaine was starting to feel like he and his mom had shared custody of the other boy, but the truth was that Blaine wanted Finn there. He'd missed his presence all weekend and couldn't hide the grin from his face when he opened the door to him on Sunday.

They'd driven separately that day, Blaine making up some excuse about having to be somewhere across town after school and promising that he'd be home that evening. Finn had grown comfortable enough around Blaine's mom to feel at home with her even when Blaine wasn't there and the same was true for Mrs. Anderson.

She liked having Finn in her house, even though it worried her a bit that he didn't feel comfortable in his own home yet. She'd called his mother several times to double and triple-check that the arrangement was alright with her and despite the catch in her voice, Carole Hummel agreed that Finn should be wherever he felt most comfortable for now. As much as it hurt, she had to admit that Finn's decision did give her the energy she needed to focus on her husband, who still could barely function in the wake of his son's death.

At the sound of the bell ringing, Blaine jumped up from his desk and threw his books into his bag haphazardly. Noticing the funny looks he was getting from some of the classmates around him, he deliberately slowed his pace and, with great restraint, walked out of the room instead of sprinting.

In reality, Blaine had no idea why his need to speak with Trevor had taken on such intensity. Maybe it was his mind's way of focusing on something other than Kurt, something to give him a break from the near-constant grieving. It was like a project, a mystery to sort out.

Blaine tried his hardest to calm himself down on the drive to The Lima Bean as he formulated a plan on how to approach Trevor. What should he say? Should he just order his coffee and wait for some kind of sign from the other boy? What if he didn't give him a sign or any indication that he wanted to talk? Was he bold enough to ask him to sit down with him and have a conversation? Blaine could feel his palms begin to grow sweaty and his nervousness grew exponentially as he neared the shop.

Pulling into one of the parking spots directly in front of the shop, he turned his car off and sat for a few minutes, trying to collect himself and calm his nerves. He feigned nonchalance as he casually scanned the interior of the shop, but that was out of the window the minute his eyes landed on Trevor. He was in there. This was it, the moment he'd been preparing for since Friday after the assembly. He _would_ talk to Trevor and he _would_ get some answers.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt was vigorously wiping down the counter in front of his register when he heard someone clear their throat in front of him. He didn't need to look up to know who was standing there. He could recognize that sound anywhere. The circular movements of his hand on the counter came to a stop as he slowly lifted his gaze.

"C-can I help you?" He stuttered, trying to rip his gaze from Blaine's stare as the other boy's eyes seemed to bore into his.

"Medium drip, please?" Blaine answered evenly. "And I was wondering if you had a break coming up?" The last part just fell out of his mouth without his permission. He watched the emotions play on Trevor's face as he sputtered for a moment before answering.

"Um, yeah, okay," Kurt answered, looking to his right at Natalie, who, as much as she tried to hide it, was obviously eavesdropping. She gave him a slight nod and he turned nervously back to the boy standing in front of him. "One medium drip and one five minute break coming right up," he tried to laugh, but it came out as a strange, strangled noise. This was so awkward. He took Blaine's money and fixed his drink, all while trying his best to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest.

He handed the drink to Blaine, who accepted it and starting heading over to his (well, his and Kurt's) usual table, motioning for him to follow. Kurt obliged, stripping off his apron and visor and giving one last glance toward Natalie before stepping out from behind the counter.

Blaine waited for the other boy to take a seat before pulling out his own chair. The two sat in awkward silence for several moments before Blaine gathered the courage to speak again.

"I guess I should introduce myself," he began, "I'm Blaine." He stuck his hand out and Kurt shook it, biting his lip to keep from yelling out. Touching Blaine again for the first time since he died was torturous and heavenly at the same time and the energy that flowed between the two clasped hands was undeniable to either boy.

"Trevor," Kurt responded, breaking the handshake not out of desire, but necessity.

"It's nice to meet you," Blaine answered genuinely. "Trevor, I hate to be so forward, but I have to ask you something that's been on my mind." Blaine registered the look of fear that seemed to wash over the other boy's face. As nervous as Blaine was, he was starting to think that Trevor was even more so.

"I've seen you in here the last few weeks," he continued. "And Natalie tells me you're new here, which makes sense because I'm in here nearly every day and I haven't ever seen you until recently," _Focus, Blaine._ "Anyway, this is going to sound kind of strange, but do you—did you know Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt was fairly certain that if Blaine looked hard enough, he'd be able to see his heart pounding against his chest. Hearing Blaine say his name caused a flutter in the pit of his stomach that he fought hard to suppress.

"Kurt Hummel? Um, no, doesn't ring a bell," He answered lamely. He was obviously lying, anyone would be able to tell that and by the look on Blaine's face, Kurt could tell that he hadn't fooled him either.

"But I saw you. On Friday, at McKinley," Blaine spoke slowly, confusion dripping thickly from his words. "At the assembly for Kurt. If you didn't know him, why were you there?"

Kurt thought about trying to lie again. He thought about telling Blaine that he must have been mistaken and that he had an alibi for Friday, but what was the point? He'd been caught already and the more lies he told, the harder it would be to dig himself out of the pit he was creating.

"Alright, fine," Kurt started, exhaling heavily. Blaine leaned over the table closer to him, eager to hear his response. "I was there at the assembly, but it was a huge mistake. I shouldn't have gone. I-I overheard you and your friend talking about it here on Thursday and I decided to go and see what it was all about."

"But why?" Blaine asked, possibly more confused now than when he'd thought that Trevor knew Kurt somehow. "Why would you go to a service for someone you didn't even know?"

Here's where Kurt made the decision to tell one more tiny lie, or maybe a half-truth would be more accurate, because the whole truth just simply wasn't an option.

"This is really embarrassing," Kurt answered honestly. "I came to see you. I'd seen you here several times, a-and I just wanted to see you again. But like I said, it was a big mistake and I wish I hadn't done it. I'm sorry, Blaine, I-I don't really know what else to say."

Part of Blaine felt like he should be creeped out by the admission, but for some reason he wasn't.

"Listen, I've got to get back to work," Kurt said, starting to get up. As he put his hand on the table to help push himself up, Blaine's hand shot out and grabbed his forearm.

"Can…Can we do this again? Maybe for longer than a few minutes next time?" Blaine almost felt pathetic for pleading with him, but if anything, he was even more desperate to spend time with Trevor now than he had been before he sat down with him.

Kurt bit his lip, hesitating briefly before saying one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to say in his entire life.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea," He said, voice wavering and for the second time that day, tears threatened to betray him. He gently tugged his arm from Blaine's grasp and turned to head back to the kitchen, leaving a stunned, confused and somewhat hurt Blaine in his wake.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Kurt's feet were killing him as he trudged back to the apartment that night. Ever since his conversation with Blaine, the night seemed to drag on. Especially since Blaine sat there, _just sat there,_ for a good half hour after Kurt turned down his request for a longer coffee date. Talk about awkward. Finally, Natalie had gone over to him and said who-knows-what and within a few minutes, he was making his way out of the coffee shop with his head down in defeat. It wasn't the Blaine who Kurt was used to, but Kurt hadn't seen that Blaine since he'd died anyway.

When Natalie came back around to the registers, she shot a sympathetic look toward Kurt, who was having a difficult time not running out of the shop screaming and pulling his hair out. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into? Why in the world had he thought that working here was a good idea? _That's it,_ he thought to himself. _Tomorrow I'm starting the job hunt. I've got to get away from here as soon as possible._ He was so desperate to escape the pain and awkwardness of his next potential run in with Blaine that he briefly contemplated following in Declan's footsteps and living the life of a corpse robber.

In reality, Kurt had a hard time seeing the fault in what Declan did. He was kind of right, the person he was taking from was dead, so what did they care? Declan only took from those who lived alone and even then he only took cash. Even still, Kurt wanted to work. He wanted to have something else to focus on rather than the business of reaping souls. That something just couldn't be Blaine anymore. It was too painful.

As he walked slowly in the growing dusk, Kurt wondered whether or not he should tell Declan what happened with Blaine. So far, since instigating their full-disclosure policy, Kurt had been completely up front and honest with him about everything, but he was afraid of what Declan's reaction might be to hearing that Kurt sat down with Blaine and had a conversation right there in The Lima Bean. _I've got nothing to hide,_ Kurt told himself. _He approached me, I talked to him briefly and then I made it clear that it couldn't happen again. I did everything right._ So why was he so hesitant to say that? It was then that Kurt realized that as much as he'd wanted to run out of the coffee shop earlier and never look back, he wasn't actually ready to do that, or to never see Blaine again, and telling Declan the truth about what happened would elicit that _exact_ advice from him.

"Oh my God, I'm such a mess," Kurt muttered to himself. He found himself pacing outside the apartment building, going over the pros and cons of talking to Declan once more before making his decision and starting the long climb upstairs. He would have to be honest with Declan. He'd already proven time and time again that despite the fact that he didn't always like the other reaper's advice and direction, he was much more experienced at this game and chances were, he was going to be right much more often than Kurt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting at the small café table at The Lima Bean after Trevor blew him off until Natalie approached him and suggested that he head home and try to get some rest. Looking down at his watch, he realized that he'd been there for almost forty five minutes, only five of those actually spent talking to Trevor. Slightly embarrassed, he stood up and walked over to the trash can to dump his cup. Against his better judgment, he threw a glance over his shoulder to where Trevor was standing before heading out of the shop. Trevor was staring intently at his nails on his left hand, but if the bright red flush on his face was any indication, he was just as affected by their conversation as Blaine was.

It's not that Blaine hadn't heard Trevor blow him off. He'd heard the words loud and clear. It's just that Blaine didn't buy it. Trevor's words said one thing, but his body language, the inflection in his voice, the emotions in his eyes, they said something completely different. There was much more to the story than Blaine knew or could even guess and now he just had to decide if he was going to pursue it or not.

He didn't consider himself a pushy guy. He of all people should respect, and _did_ respect, that 'no means no.' Hadn't he backed off when Jeremiah asked him to? Hadn't he been patient when Kurt decided time and again that he needed more time before they began exploring each other intimately?

But Blaine was different now. Life had changed so drastically for him as of late, and now life wasn't something to tread lightly upon. Life was for the living and Blaine's former cautious lifestyle didn't feel like living anymore. There was something almost animalistic about his desire to know more about Trevor and if he spent too much time examining it, it might have scared him. He wasn't even sure if his desire for Trevor was romantic, he just had to _know_ him.

_Whoa,_ Blaine suddenly snapped back to reality. He looked down at his knuckles, which were bright white as they gripped the steering wheel so tightly it hurt. _Calm down,_ he told himself, slowly prying his fingers from the wheel one by one and grimacing slightly at the ache. Looking up from his hands, Blaine found himself sitting in his driveway with no recollection of the drive home from the coffee shop. Had he been that distracted? What was going on with him? Taking another few moments to gather himself, Blaine finally unsnapped his seat belt and made his way up to the house.

As he entered the front door, he could smell the heavenly scent of his mother's lasagna wafting through the house. Taking a deep breath, he smiled to himself. It was his favorite meal.

"Mom? Finn?" He called out. He headed to the kitchen where he found Finn, staring into the open refrigerator. He looked up as Blaine walked into the room, pulled out a gallon of milk and shut the door.

"Hey dude," Finn greeted. "She's not here, she said she had to run out for some book club thing?"

"Oh yeah," Blaine answered. "It's Tuesday, I forgot." Blaine's stomach growled as he eyed the steaming lasagna on the stove.

"She said it should be cool enough by now," Finn said, as if reading Blaine's mind. That was all Blaine needed to hear as he grabbed two plates down from the cabinet and began serving up two huge slices.

"You want some milk?" Finn asked, pulling out two glasses.

"Um, just water, please," he answered, not looking up from the task at hand. As soon as he finished dishing up the food, he followed Finn into the living room and put the plates down on the coffee table. Finn did the same with the glasses and they both settled into the couch, television already on, tuned in to the Discovery Channel.

They scarfed down their dinner, plus seconds (and thirds for Finn) in relative silence. Once they were finished, they both leaned back into the couch, adopting a more comfortable position with which to digest their food. Blaine was staring intently at the screen as Mike Rowe mucked through a cow pasture when the sound of Finn's voice broke him out of his trance.

"I broke up with Rachel today," Finn blurted out, still staring at the television. Blaine turned to look at him and saw Finn's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"What?" Blaine had heard him, but he wanted to make sure he'd heard correctly.

"I broke up with Rachel today," he repeated. "I-I just couldn't do it anymore. Maybe in the future, but she just…she's too much to handle right now and I can't deal with it." Blaine watched as Finn's eyes filled up, but didn't spill over. He could see that Finn was biting the inside of his cheek to hold his composure. Reaching over for the remote, he turned the television off and shifted on the couch so that he was closer and angled in to Finn.

"Jesus, Finn," Blaine started. He placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, no longer worried that Finn would jerk away like he had that first night he came over. They were past those boundaries now. "I-I'm really sorry. I don't know what to say."

"I never understood how someone could feel lonely when they were surrounded by a bunch of people," Finn said after a few moments, voice slightly garbled with unshed tears. "I know that Kurt felt that way…before he met you, I mean. But that's how I feel now. All my friends and Rachel, their problems just feel so small and stupid now and I can't relate to them. I don't want to. They don't understand what it's like. I mean, yeah, they lost Kurt too, but not the way I did. Or the way you did."

Finn looked at Blaine several times while he spoke, but he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. Blaine listened quietly, knowing that Finn was the type of person who sometimes just needed to ramble until it was all out. Somewhere along the line, he'd begun stroking Finn's neck and shoulder reassuringly. Blaine felt terrible for Finn. It was obvious how much he was struggling right now, and how much he needed someone to tell him it was okay to let it go.

"Finn," Blaine said quietly once it was apparent that Finn was finished speaking. "It's okay. You don't have to hold back in front of me. You can cry if—" Blaine was cut off by the force with which Finn attacked him, holding onto him tightly in a hug. Finn was sobbing now, with more intensity than Blaine had seen in the past few weeks.

"It's okay, Finn, I'm here," Blaine whispered repeatedly in his ear, not knowing what else to say. Finn's crying got more intense before it slowly started to subside. Blaine didn't want to be the one to break the embrace, because he wasn't sure how Finn would interpret that, given his current state, so he sat there, despite the awkward way that his hips swiveled against the direction of his legs, until Finn finally pulled away enough to send his lips crashing into Blaine's.

Blaine's eyes flew open as he watched the scene in front of him, almost feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience. Finn was kissing him. Hard. His eyes were closed, but even so, Blaine could see the vulnerability and urgency etched all over his face. Blaine kissed back, mostly out of shock, but some small part of him knew it was because he missed it. Finn's kiss didn't feel like anything he'd experienced with Kurt, but he would be lying if he said he didn't miss the intimacy that came along with a kiss.

After a few moments, Finn pulled back and eyed Blaine with an indiscernible expression before leaning back in.

"Finn," Blaine finally found his voice and pulled away from the other boy's advancing lips. "What are you doing?"

Blaine's voice seemed to snap Finn out of whatever had possessed him to kiss the him. He looked at the boy in front of him. Blaine's eyes were wide and he looked slightly frightened to Finn. _What the hell did I just do?_ He asked himself, panic rising quickly from his stomach to his throat.

"Oh, God," he stuttered, quickly standing up from the couch. "Oh my God, Blaine, I-I uh…" he trailed off, not knowing where to even start. He couldn't believe he'd just done that, not just kissing Blaine who he'd never even thought of in that way, but doing it without his permission was even worse. And if the look on Blaine's face was any indication of how it had made him feel, Finn needed to get out of that house quickly. He turned on his heel and grabbing his car keys off the kitchen table, he headed for the door.

"Finn, wait!" Blaine suddenly found the ability to move again and jumped up from the couch following Finn. "Please don't go," he said as he approached the other boy, putting his hand on Finn's shoulder, turning him around to face him. "It's okay, I'm just…surprised. That's all, you don't have to leave."

"I…" Finn searched for the right words. "I'm so sorry, Blaine. I don't know what happened. I'm…really confused and—"

"Look," Blaine cut him off, knowing that he was having a hard time trying to explain what had just happened. "Let's just forget about it, okay? If you want to talk about it later after you've processed it, we can do that, but I won't say a word about it unless you bring it up again, deal?"

Blaine could see the tension drop from Finn's shoulders slightly, although it was apparent that he was still incredibly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Deal," Finn finally agreed. "Thanks, dude."

"Okay, with that settled, will you please put your car keys down and help me get the dishes?" Blaine asked with a small smile. "It's not polite to eat and run, and my mom's feelings would be hurt if you weren't here to tell her how good her world-famous lasagna is when she gets back."

Somehow Finn was able to muster a small smile as he returned his keys to the kitchen table and headed into the living room to grab their dirty plates. Once he was out of sight, Blaine leaned back against the wall and clothes his eyes, letting out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_Well,_ he thought to himself, _at least my mind's off of Trevor._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Declan heard footsteps approaching the apartment door and waited patiently for Kurt to make his way in. It had been a long, boring day and he was looking forward to spending the evening with Kurt. They'd spent so much time together since meeting that it was weird to have him gone during the day when he had to work. Kurt was getting more comfortable with the reapings, so the task was starting to feel less like a babysitting job and more like a teamwork thing.

Declan smiled to himself as he tried to remember the joke he'd overheard at the convenience store earlier that day so that he could tell Kurt when he came in. But when Kurt opened the door and stepped in, Declan immediately knew that joking probably wouldn't go over well tonight. Kurt looked exhausted and like he'd been crying. Again. Declan mentally prepared himself for a long night of comforting the boy, something he wasn't wholly opposed to.

"Kurt, you alright?" He greeted.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, kicking off his shoes and joining Declan on the couch. "But I need to tell you something in the interest of full disclosure."

_Uh-oh,_ Declan inwardly groaned. These conversations never seemed to go very well. "Okay…" he said tentatively.

"Blaine came in today after school and we talked," Kurt decided to just lay out the facts and fill in the tiny details later as necessary. "We talked for about five minutes after which he asked me if we could do it again and I told him no."

Declan was silent for a moment. Truthfully, he was impressed. If Kurt was being honest about it, then it appeared that he was stronger when it came to Blaine than he thought.

"What did you talk about?" He finally asked.

Kurt drew in a deep breath. "He asked me if I knew Kurt Hummel, and I told him no. Then he said he saw me at the assembly and asked me why I was there if I didn't know Kurt and I told him that I overheard him talking about it at The Lima Bean and I went to see him, but that it was a big mistake and that I was sorry that I did it. I told him I had to get back to work and he asked if we could sit down and talk again later and I said I didn't think so. And that was it."

Declan nodded silently. He took in image of the boy next to him. His eyes were rimmed red and his face was puffy. It was obvious that the whole thing upset him, but he was getting stronger. Declan could see it.

"So what now?" Declan asked. It wasn't one of those situations where he knew the right answer and was hoping Kurt would answer correctly. Declan honestly didn't know what to do in this situation.

"I know now that it was a mistake to take the job there," Kurt admitted, much to Declan's surprise. "And I guess I need to start looking for a new job. It's just so…I don't know, it's like….so painful to be there and to see him, but the idea of leaving and not seeing him anymore is just as bad. I've gotten myself into such a mess." Kurt closed his eyes and leaned his head on Declan's shoulder.

"It'll be okay Kurt," Declan reassured. "You just gotta trust yourself. The right answer will make itself known, you just have to be patient and listen for it."

Kurt lifted his head slightly and looked Declan in the eyes. "When did you get so wise?" He asked with a weary smile.

"Stole that from a fortune cookie," Declan grinned sheepishly and before he knew what was happening, Kurt was kissing him.

Part of him knew he should pull away, that Kurt was just lonely and upset about his interaction with Blaine. But the other part of him, the selfish, lustful, needy part took Kurt in hungrily, kissing back with a small whimper. Kurt's tongue begged for entrance into Declan's mouth and without hesitation, he accepted it, wrapping his arms around Kurt's back and drawing him in closely. He wondered briefly if he was taking advantage of Kurt, but quickly threw the thought out as Kurt kissed him in a way that he hadn't experienced in decades.

They sat there on the couch making out until it was apparent that neither was getting enough oxygen to continue on. Pulling away, Kurt's eyes found Declan's and he opened his mouth to speak. When, after several awkward seconds, no words came out, Kurt averted his gaze and sat back up straight on the couch, inching away from Declan slightly.

"What just happened?" Declan was the one to finally break the silence. He could hear Kurt breathing heavily beside him.

"I think the kids call it 'making out' these days," Kurt answered, trying his best to come off casually, but instead he thought he sounded like a scared little boy, which is exactly how he felt.

"Kurt—"

"Let's," Kurt cut him off, really not wanting to have that conversation right then. "Let's just wait. Please? Can we talk about this tomorrow, maybe?" His eyes were pleading with Declan just as much as his words and truthfully, Declan was a little relieved. He wanted some time to process the whole thing too.

"Sure, okay," he conceded. He saw the relief in Kurt's features and both boys wondered what they were going to do with the rest of the night.

One thing was for sure, though. Whatever the next few hours (and likely days) brought, it was bound to be awkward.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

For what felt like the thousandth time that night, Finn rolled over in bed, changing positions with a labored sigh. As tired as he may have been in class earlier that day, the events of the evening kept him wired and he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd done.

He'd kissed Blaine. And if Blaine hadn't stopped him, he would have done it again. As much as Finn wanted to convince himself that he didn't know what he was doing when he made that decision, the truth was that he was fully aware of what was happening. Sure, it confused the shit out of him, but he'd felt the moment coming. He was telling Blaine about breaking up with Rachel, and then he just lost it, because Blaine was the only person in his life right then that he could lose it with. He had to be strong for everyone else—for Rachel (until he dumped her, that is), for his mom and Burt, for his reputation at school…but with Blaine, he could let it all out. All of the ugly tears and anguish, all of the unreasonable and unfair and selfish thoughts, every single emotion that ran its course through his body and mind, Blaine would understand and accept it all.

So when Blaine told him it was okay to cry, he didn't wait for the boy who'd become his best friend the last few weeks to finish his sentence. Finn was drowning and Blaine was a buoy bobbing gently with the promise of calmer waters. Finn registered the feeling of Blaine in his grasp. He'd felt how different the sensation of holding onto another guy for dear life was, but it wasn't a difference he minded. Blaine was smaller than him, but his embrace made him feel so safe, so understood.

But then Finn could feel the subtle shift in Blaine beneath his embrace. He saw the way Blaine's body was twisted awkwardly, how he'd obviously not been prepared to be physically comforting Finn for quite this long. He imagined that Blaine was probably ready to break the hug, but was too nice and too thoughtful to do it before Finn was ready. So long before Finn was ready for the moment to end, he did the only thing he could think of to continue the moment, to keep hold of Blaine's attention and affection.

He kissed him.

It wasn't romantic for Finn. At least, he didn't think it was. After all, he'd never been attracted to a guy before and while he liked Blaine a lot, possibly even loved him, he wasn't ready to label it as romantic attraction. He almost felt like an addict, with Blaine being his drug of choice. He was addicted to spending time with him, and going home for the weekend after the assembly had almost killed him. He thought about Blaine, about what Blaine was doing and whether Blaine was thinking about him too.

_I'm thinking like a crazy person,_ Finn thought to himself on more than one occasion. He knew that he was handling his brother's death horribly, that he really should be getting some sort of professional help to start sorting through all of the feelings and thoughts that were taking over his life. He knew that, in a sense, he was taking advantage of Blaine and their connection through Kurt to avoid having to actually deal with what was going on. But in fairness, he felt used by Blaine as well, not that he minded. It was like the two of them were on a playground teeter-totter, one riding high while the other was in the pit, one providing comfort and shelter when the other was vulnerable and scared.

It wasn't healthy, but it was comfortable. At least, it had been until Finn made the decision to kiss Blaine. He didn't regret it, though. Sure, he was embarrassed and slightly thankful that Blaine had stopped him before he got way too far in over his head, but he would do it again if given the option. Maybe I do like him like that, Finn thought, the suggestion causing him to shift positions in the bed of the Anderson's guest room yet again. The thought didn't repulse him or worry him, which, had it been two years prior, it probably would have. It just confused him. If he was attracted to Blaine in that way, was it just because of what happened with Kurt? Or would he, years down the road, after marrying and starting a family, figure out that the missing piece in his life was due to the fact that he was attracted to men, or maybe more specifically, to one man? Could that happen?

Finn groaned and sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes to speed their adjustment to the darkness. Shadows from the trees outside his window danced on the wall, the soft wind blowing through them cause a water-like ripple effect inside the room. It made Finn feel like he was drowning again, only this time, he didn't have anyone or anything to cling to. And as much as Blaine said he would just forget about the whole thing, Finn had seen the look on his face after the kiss and he wondered if Blaine would be able to forget that easily.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Across the hall, Blaine was wide awake as well. There was so much going on in his head, but at the forefront of his mind was the fact that Finn, his dead boyfriend's brother, had kissed him. Out of nowhere. Since getting in bed, Blaine had the opportunity to really digest what had happened, and as the hours went by, he experienced the gamut of emotions. At first he'd just been concerned for Finn. He seemed so vulnerable, so lost, that he could somewhat understand what had possessed Finn to kiss him. But soon, concern bled into anger over feeling used.

What, just because he was gay, did Finn think that Blaine would want to kiss him? That he didn't need to check with Blaine prior? But then, Blaine couldn't have hated it too much, because he kissed back, right? If some part of him didn't want to do it, he would have pulled away, right? So what if, for a brief moment, it felt right, even natural and good? Finn was Kurt's brother and Kurt was dead. Blaine shuddered at the guilt that raged through his body as he thought about how Kurt might have felt if he'd witnessed the scene between the two boys. And Blaine desperately wanted to believe that Kurt was watching over him.

_At least I stopped him,_ Blaine tried to comfort himself. But then what? He'd told Finn it was okay, that he'd just taken him by surprise, and to be fair, Blaine had been surprised and nowhere near ready to begin discussing with Finn all the different implications and motivations behind his actions. Part of him thought that he should have let Finn walk out the front door, let him go sort things out on his own, but the bottom line was that Blaine was scared he wouldn't come back. As angry as he might have been, he needed Finn with a desperation that he would never have thought possible.

The idea of Finn walking out and not coming back was too much for Blaine to handle. So he begged him to stay. Thankfully, he didn't need to beg too hard, as Finn obviously was intending to leave out of obligation and shame rather than desire. But now, because of his decision to ask him to stay, Blaine was left alone in bed with his anger, fear, frustration and most infuriating, his desire. Finn wasn't his type, not at all. He was the brother of his true love and it nauseated Blaine to think about that fact as he felt the familiar stir in the pit of his stomach. The stir that, despite all the guilt, urged his hand to move beneath the covers.

The confusion in his mind obviously didn't stop his body from responding and after several minutes of trying to fight it, he eventually gave in, letting his mind carry him to different images and memories, mostly of Kurt. But despite his best efforts to avoid it, he conjured the image of Finn kissing him. He reasoned that it was because it was the most recent sexual contact he'd had, it was freshest on his mind, but he found himself thinking about his other interactions with Finn over the last few weeks.

Thankfully, it was returning his thoughts to Kurt that finally sent him barreling over the edge. He'd turned slightly, burying his head in the pillow just before he came, knowing his proclivity to let out an involuntary moan at the point of climax. Before he was finished, and before the noise completely left his body, he found himself screaming into the pillow, once, twice-over and over until he felt a metallic burn at the back of his throat. His toes curled and uncurled under the covers and despite the revolting feeling of laying under a blanket coated in his sticky, cold emissions, he could not motivate himself to get up and do anything about it. The emotions running through him were so intense that they rendered him immobile and eventually, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine awoke the next morning to the sound of his mother knocking on the bed room door. He was in a fog, not quite remembering the details of the night before, but understanding that something was not right.

"Sweetheart?" Mrs. Anderson called out, as she opened the door slowly. "I didn't hear your alarm go off. You've got to get ready for school."

"Oh," he mumbled, sitting up on his elbows. "Yeah, okay. I'll be right down." And then he remembered something. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Of course," she answered. "Finn's been up for a while, so the bathroom is all yours."

Finn. Finn kissing him. Begging Finn not to leave. Touching himself to the memory of Finn.

"Blaine, honey, are you feeling okay?" Blaine watched with slight horror as she approached the bed, arm extended to feel his forehead. The thought of being touched by anyone at that moment revolted him. He saw the look of surprise and confusion on her face as he physically jumped away from her approach, pulling his knees up to his chest under the covers.

"I'm fine mom, just," he searched his mind for an acceptable answer that wouldn't cause his mom to ask more questions. "I just didn't sleep very well last night, but I'm fine now. Just a bit tired, that's all."

"Okay, then," she answered, still looking worried. She turned and slowly left the room, closing the door behind her. Blaine let out a deep breath and started to peel back the covers. He grimaced as the top sheet clung to his stomach but with a little tug, he was able to pull it free. After he'd finished last night, he hadn't bothered to put his underwear back on and standing up out of the bed, he retrieved them from where they lay on the floor and slid them on. Stripping his bed, he crumpled up his sheets into a wad before taking them and stuffing them into the far reaches of his closet. Spreading the blanket back over the bed, he adjusted it, praying that his mom wouldn't go in his room later that day and notice his sheets were missing. He would find a fresh set and fix it when he got home, he decided. But at that moment, he needed to take a shower before he lost his mind.

When he finally made his way downstairs, his mom had already set out a bowl of cereal for him. Looking around, he noticed that Finn wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"He already left," Mrs. Anderson explained, as if reading his mind. "Said he had some meeting before class and that you two had discussed driving separately again today?"

"Oh yeah," Blaine lied. "I forgot."

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, leaning over the counter to get a better look at her son. "You can stay home today if you'd like, I don't mind calling into work."

"Mom, please stop worrying, I'm fine," he lied for the second time in the span of ten seconds. "I'm just tired."

"Okay, well I'm calling the school and giving permission for you to come back if you decide you aren't feeling well."

Blaine fought hard not to roll his eyes. He knew she was just concerned about him, but he wished she would just let it go. At the same time, a small part of him was screaming out, begging for her to recognize how fucked up he was right then, how lost and scared and confused. Instead, he got up silently and hugged his mom before grabbing his keys and satchel and heading out to his car.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Things with Declan were awkward for several days after Kurt kissed him. They tried talking about it the next morning, but didn't really get anywhere. Kurt was too embarrassed and self-conscious about the whole thing and Declan was paranoid about both Kurt's intentions and his own.

He definitely enjoyed kissing Declan, and Declan hardly needed to admit that he enjoyed kissing Kurt back. But was it the right thing to do? Was it smart to get involved with Declan? Sure, it wasn't like Kurt could get back together with Blaine, and his circle of friends was pretty much limited to the other reapers. He could try to make other friends among the living, but the amount of lying that would have to go into creating a new identity exhausted Kurt just thinking about it. So adding all that up, it sure _seemed_ like a good idea to fall for Declan.

Declan, in his mind, wasn't so sure. Of course he had feelings for Kurt, he'd made that fairly obvious from the start. There was something about the boy, the way he carried himself, the way clung to Declan, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed…Declan could make a list a mile long, and they'd only known each other for several weeks. Kurt was so young and so new at this, who knew what he was going to want in five, ten or twenty years? It wouldn't be like if he was alive, he wouldn't age, he would have to do the same thing day in and day out, and just because a reaper has the physical ability to do all these things, it didn't mean that the lifestyle didn't take a psychological toll. Kurt was acclimating relatively well to being a reaper, but who knew what the future held?

The bottom line was that Kurt scared the shit out of Declan. He was terrified of falling for him and losing him. He'd been hurt in the past and he didn't want to go through it again. The first time had been way too painful.

Eventually though, just from the sheer passage of time, the air became less tense, less awkward, between the two. They began laughing and smiling at each other, sitting next to each other at Maggie's. Declan even began coming to sit with Kurt on his lunch breaks at the coffee shop. They still hadn't really talked about what happened, but there seemed to be an understanding that if or when they found themselves in a similar situation again, they'd talk about it first before taking any action. For right then, they were comfortable just being friends. Best friends.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week had passed since Blaine had come in to The Lima Bean and asked Kurt to sit down with him and Kurt hadn't seen him in there since. It took everything within him not to ask Natalie if she'd seen him on the days Kurt wasn't working. It was for the best that Blaine was apparently avoiding him, Kurt reassured himself over and over again. It was easier for him and it didn't put him in the awkward position of having to make more excuses for why he couldn't even talk to him.

That wasn't entirely true though. Kurt could talk to Blaine, without losing all of his good memories of their relationship together. He'd asked Sue about it, hypothetically of course, and she'd explained that if a reaper has contact with someone from their past life, they would only lose the memories that they spoke about or called to mind when in the presence of that person. So really, Kurt could even try to be friends with Blaine again, but he didn't trust himself to be able to look into Blaine's deep gold eyes and not lose everything he cherished about the boy. He'd cried more than once about it, talking himself in and out of experimenting with a friendship with Blaine, but in the end he decided it would just be harmful to both of them. Harmful to Kurt if he started losing those memories and harmful to Blaine (obviously felt some connection to Trevor), if he suddenly dropped out of his life with no explanation.

While Kurt was relieved that he didn't have to deal with the situation of Blaine coming in to the coffee shop and trying to talk to him, he was worried about him. Finally, he broke down and confronted Natalie about it.

"Hey Nat, can I talk to you about something?" He approached her during the after lunch lull. Natalie looked up with concern.

"Of course, sweetie," she answered, adjusting her apron and leaning against the register.

"Have you seen, um…" for some reason, the words were catching in his throat and his nerves were causing his heart to pound. "Have you seen Blaine since…since that day last week?" He knew she would understand when he was talking about.

She thought for a moment. "Actually no, now that you mention it, I haven't seen him since then."

"What about on Saturday?" He asked with slight surprise. Blaine never missed coming to the coffee shop on Saturday mornings. Kurt had the day off, so he'd just assumed Blaine had been in, even though he hadn't seen him before or since.

"No," she answered plainly. Kurt could tell that the realization had made her a bit nervous too.

"Do you mind me asking," Kurt continued after a slight pause. "What did you say to him when you went to talk to him last week after I sat down with him?"

Natalie sighed, and Kurt wasn't sure if it was because she was reluctant to answer or if she was trying to recall her exact words. When she finally answered, Kurt knew it was the latter.

"Well, I asked him if he was okay and if he needed anything," She started, her eyes cast toward the ceiling as if trying to remember. "He just shook his head yes to the first question and no to the second. Then I told him that he should probably go home and get some sleep because he looked exhausted. I think I embarrassed him though, when I said that, because his face got all red and he looked kind of flustered. He told me thanks and then he left, and I haven't seen him since." Natalie returned her gaze to Kurt, who was starting to look a little green around the gills.

"Trevor," she spoke softly when it became apparent that the other boy wasn't going to respond. "I know that it's none of my business and I've already inserted myself into this situation way too many times, but I'm worried about both of you. What in the world is going on?"

It was Kurt's turn to sigh and choose his words carefully. "It's complicated," he answered honestly. "And I can't really explain it to where it would make sense. To put it simply, I care about Blaine, but I can't pursue any kind of relationship or friendship with him because it would be detrimental to both of us. I know that probably only confuses you more, but that's all I can offer by way of explanation."

Natalie simply nodded and Kurt was comforted greatly by the fact that her eyes seemed to communicate that she understood, or at least understood enough to not pursue it any farther.

"All that being said, I'm still worried that he hasn't been in here," Kurt continued. "I mean, on the one hand, I don't want to run into him, but I want to know that he's okay, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," she replied. "Tell you what—I have your cell phone number and the minute I see him in here, if you're not on shift, I'll let you know, okay?"

"That would be fantastic," Kurt answered with a great deal of gratitude. Natalie was good people, no doubt. "And on that note, it's time for me to leave." Kurt gave her a hug and headed back to the kitchen to punch his time card. It was four thirty and Kurt had to be at Maggie's by five. Declan told him that morning that he would come by to get Kurt so they could walk over together and sure enough, when Kurt came back out of the kitchen, Declan was leaned up against the glass window outside. Kurt smiled to himself. Every time he saw Declan lately, his heart gave a tiny leap. He tried his best to suppress any thoughts or feelings about Declan since the incident the week before, but he couldn't help but recognize how being around Declan made him feel.

"Hey Dec," he greeted as he exited the coffee shop. Declan, who'd been sporting his trademark faraway look broke out into a large grin when he turned his head to see Kurt.

"Hey Kurt," he answered as the two fell into step with each other, walking in the direction of Maggie's. "How was work?"

"Pretty good," Kurt answered. He decided against saying anything to Declan about his conversation with Natalie about Blaine. It's not like he'd seen or heard from Blaine, so what was the point? "My feet hurt a bit, but other than that…" He trailed off, looking down at his shoes and wincing. He really needed to invest in some good work shoes.

"Well you have the day off tomorrow, right?" Declan waited for Kurt's nod. "Why don't you see if Annabel will go shopping with you to find a new pair of shoes?"

"Declan!" Kurt answered with mock hurt. "I'm devastated that you didn't suggest that the two of us go shopping together."

Declan rolled his eyes and punched Kurt in the arm lightly. He liked Kurt, but shopping with him was not high on his wish list.

"Well I guess I'll just have to solicit Annabel's company," Kurt said, his face turning red when he realized what he'd just said. "Not solicit like that, I meant like, her services and oh my God stop talking Kurt." He rambled and Declan let him, loving every second of watching Kurt become more and more flustered.

Thankfully, before too much longer, the two of them reached Maggie's, Declan holding the door open for Kurt, who bowed graciously before entering. Kurt was sure that they looked like a couple of idiots to the strangers inside, but he didn't care. Declan put him in such a good mood that he'd almost forgotten all about the situation with Blaine.

They were the first to arrive at their usual booth, but they were joined by the others before too long. They ordered their food and chatted as they waited for it to arrive. Annabel went on in great detail about a particularly odd reap she'd had earlier in the day and Laura vented about her boss at the post office.

By the time they'd finished, Sue was pulling out her day planner for the second time that day. Kurt looked at her in confusion.

"Didn't we already get our assignments for today?" He asked, which was a stupid, obvious question, since he'd had to take off in the middle of his shift to go reap the soul of a man who jumped off the Moore's Highway bridge. It had been hard for Kurt not to try to talk the guy out of it, but he'd been warned of the consequences of interfering with fate and for once in his afterlife, he hadn't tried to fight that.

"Well, Porcelain, sometimes we get a late addition," Sue explained, copying down the information onto a sticky note. "And just to drive that lesson home, I'll let you take care of this one." Kurt grimaced slightly and shot a sideways glance toward Declan, who shrugged his shoulders and offered a sympathetic look.

Kurt took the note from Sue and began reading with a feeling of dread that quickly turned into one of fear and panic. One that he tried his best to conceal from the rest of the table. One that he successfully hid from everyone but Declan. Trying not to arouse suspicion, Declan casually reached over and plucked the note from Kurt's visibly shaky grasp and read.

_B. Anderson_

_12 Watters Bend Road_

_9:37pm_


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Please note that this chapter contains suicidal and self-harm thoughts and actions that may be triggering. Please do not read if this is a problem for you.

Chapter 26

"Kurt, wait!" He could hear Declan calling after him, but he couldn't will his legs to stop propelling him forward. He had managed to walk somewhat calmly out of the restaurant, although he probably drew suspicion by suddenly getting up and leaving without even saying goodbye, but the minute the door swung shut behind him he was off.

Now, about three quarters of a mile away, Declan finally was catching up to him, and despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he could feel his body begin to protest at the sudden burst of activity.

"Kurt!" Declan's voice was right in his ear now, and sure enough, within a few seconds, a strong hand landed on his shoulder, effectively bringing him to a halt. At once, Kurt felt light-headed and nauseated and before he had a chance to register what was happening, he began vomiting all over the sidewalk at his feet. He felt Declan's arm wrap around his waist and he fell into the support, his own ability to keep himself upright rendered useless as the spasms took control.

All the while, Declan whispered to him, trying with desperate futility to calm Kurt down. Finally, once his stomach was empty and the dry heaving ceased, Kurt regained his footing, breathing heavily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and without a word, tried to take off running again. This time, however, Declan was able to grab his wrist to keep him from leaving. Kurt tried a few times to pull his hand loose, but it was no use. He was too worn out at this point to put up much of a fight.

"Dec, let me go!" He settled for screaming at Declan.

"Kurt, wait, we have some time," Kurt looked back and forth between Declan and the direction he had been running several times. "We don't even know that it's Blaine. Anderson is a common name and B—"

"No, Declan!" Kurt cut him off forcefully. He had a look in his eyes that Declan had never seen on another human being before, even one close to death. It was one of fear and desperation, overwhelming sadness and panic. "You don't understand. 12 Watters Bend, that's…" And then Declan knew.

12 Watters Bend was a residential street. It was in a fairly well-to-do neighborhood. Blaine was well off, from what Declan understood about him.

"It's his house, isn't it?" Declan asked softly. Kurt didn't have to answer him. The way his body started to slump told him everything he needed to know and he barely had time to catch Kurt before he began to fall again.

"I-I can't do this," Kurt mumbled softly. Declan could feel his body trembling beneath his grasp. He was incapable of forming words. It was just a bad coincidence that Kurt had been assigned to reap Blaine's soul, but was the universe really this cruel? Declan wanted to cry right along with Kurt, but he knew that he wouldn't be doing Kurt any favors by breaking down at this point, so instead he began formulating a plan.

"Kurt, I want you to do me a favor and take a deep breath," he said softly as he gently guided Kurt to a bench on the corner just a few feet away. "It's 9:00 now, so we have just a little bit of time. Give me a moment to think, alright?" Declan bit his lip and took Kurt's silence as acknowledgement and assurance that he wouldn't try to run again.

12 Watters Bend Road was about another half a mile from where they were. If they were quick about it, they could get there in about six minutes which gave Declan about thirty minutes to try to figure something out. After playing out several different scenarios in his head, he finally settled upon a plan, however, a lot of details would have to be wrinkled out once they got to Blaine's house and they figured out exactly what was going on. The only thing Declan knew for sure is that he was not going to let Kurt reap Blaine's soul. If it came down to it, Declan would do it, because making Kurt perform the task would have broken the boy, possibly beyond repair.

Declan took a couple of deep breaths, realizing that his plan was a long shot and incredibly stupid with potentially horrible consequences, but he had to do something. Rolling his shoulders back, he looked at his watch once more. Nine twenty. They had to get moving if this was going to work.

"Okay, Kurt," he said, approaching the boy from behind on the bench. Kurt slowly stood up and turned to face him. His tears had dried, leaving long, still shiny streaks down his face, but his expression was absolutely devastating to Declan. He grabbed Kurt's hand and with one final look at him, he began leading him in a fast-paced walk toward 12 Watters Bend Road.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine had planned it out perfectly. It was his mom's book club night, so he had the place to himself. Ever since he kissed him, Finn had been staying back at his own house and avoiding Blaine for the most part. He wasn't trying to be mean or unfriendly, Blaine understood that, he was just embarrassed and didn't know how to fix the situation. Blaine was embarrassed too, and ashamed for his reaction to the whole situation, but at the same time, he felt so lost and so out of control that at a certain point, the only thing he could do was shut his mind off to the whole thing. To all of life, really.

About three days ago, as he lay in bed trying unsuccessfully to sleep, the solution finally became clear to him and immediately, he felt a peace wash over him. It scared him, but it also excited him. It was an opportunity to end his pain, his confusion, his sadness and his guilt. He'd entertained the idea in the past, when things had gotten so bad at his old school and even once or twice after transferring to Dalton, but when Kurt came into his life, all that changed. Kurt gave him a purpose, a reason for living. Well, maybe not at first. Kurt made his life more bearable though, that was for sure. And when Kurt accepted his affection and his love and returned it, then Blaine felt like he truly had a reason to live.

Then that reason was snatched away from him by cruel fate and Blaine was left empty again. Without realizing it, he'd tried to use Finn to fill that hole, but that blew up in his face in a big way and left him feeling even worse than before. So now he was finally going to do it. He was going to put an end to it and finally get some peace. He felt bad when he thought about what it might do to his mom, but that feeling didn't outweigh his desperation.

All day while he'd been in class, he had been writing letters. First, to his mom and dad. He'd addressed it just to his mom though, knowing she'd read it before his dad would have a chance to fly in from Europe. He was never very close to his dad any way, since he was always out of the country on business, but he imagined his dad would fly in once he received word that his only child had killed himself. He wrote a letter to Wes, thanking him for being a good friend and asking him to tell the Warblers that he was sorry that he hadn't let them back into his life after Kurt's death. And then he wrote a letter to Finn, explaining everything that had been going on in his head the past few weeks and apologizing for his role in what happened between them.

Lining the envelopes in order on his desk once he got home from school, he proceeded to take a long shower, scrubbing his body carefully and blasting the water as hot as he could get it over his skin. He shaved meticulously in the mirror afterwards and put on his favorite t-shirt and blue jeans. Then he stood at the sink and pulled out the bottles.

Earlier, he'd raided his mother's cabinet and the one in the downstairs bathroom along with his own. He huddled the bottles together and studied them. Most of them were only half full or nearly empty and he prayed that it would be enough. He hadn't had the foresight to go out and buy anything else, and he knew that if he left the house now to do it, he might not follow through. So with a deep breath, he emptied the first bottle into his palm, threw back the handful and washed it down with a gulp of water. One by one, he repeated the motion until they were all empty.

When he looked at the clock in his bedroom upon leaving the bathroom, he noticed that it had only been about ten minutes since he'd gone back in to start taking the pills. His stomach felt slightly tingly and he felt a little lightheaded, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the pills or because he was anxious about what he was doing. Sitting down on his bed, he commenced waiting. He didn't quite know what to expect, but he was hoping it wouldn't be too painful and that it would work. Even though a very small part of him hoped it wouldn't, the majority of him hoped and prayed that it would.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine was feeling very strange. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it must have been getting late because it was dark outside. His stomach was cramping a bit, but not enough to cut through the dense fog that floated around his head. His vision kept moving in and out of focus and he had a hard time concentrating on his hand in front of his face. The only thing he was able to register was that if it was dark outside, his mom would be home soon and unless he wanted her to come in and find him still alive, he needed to do something to help out the process he'd started.

Thankfully, he'd thought out a plan B and with slow deliberate motions he got up and moved to his dresser. Fumbling with the handle several times before finally grasping on to it and pulling it open, he fished around the pairs of socks folded carefully in the drawer he pulled out the revolver he'd hidden in there earlier that evening.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt and Declan finally arrived at the house with ten minutes to spare. About halfway there, Kurt had begun hyperventilating and his panic had only increased the nearer they got. By the time they arrived to the outside of Blaine's house, Kurt was barely able to walk on his own. Declan guided Kurt to the curb and crouched down beside him, grabbing his hands and shaking him slightly to get Kurt to focus on him.

"Kurt, listen to me very carefully," Declan instructed him. "I want you to sit right here and don't move until I come back. Can you do that?"

"But Blaine…" Kurt trailed off weakly. His mind was racing, but he wasn't able to get his brain to communicate with his mouth.

"I will take care of Blaine, I promise. Just…just trust me, okay? Please just trust me." He begged. Declan would have cried out with joy at Kurt's trusting nod had he not been so terrified about what he was going to try to do. If it worked, then he didn't know what the consequences would be, only that they were potentially horrible. If it didn't work…well, he didn't want to think about that.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he promised, squeezing Kurt's hands once more before standing up and jogging toward the house. He decided to try the front door on the off chance that it was unlocked and he counted his lucky stars when it was. He pushed it open slowly and took in his surroundings.

It was a beautiful home, meticulously kept and obviously inhabited by a wealthy family. The lights were on in every room of the first floor, making it easy for Declan to look around. He stopped walking when he heard muffled noises coming from the second floor. It sounded like someone was stumbling around, maybe running into things.

"Blaine?" he called out tentatively, the name sounding somewhat odd coming out of his mouth in this stranger's house. "Blaine, are you home?" He didn't wait for an answer before he began climbing the stairs.

If he was right about his guess, and after all these years, he usually was, Blaine was going to try to kill himself tonight and Declan was determined to do what he could to stop it. He honestly had no idea what would happen if he was successful. He knew that if you didn't reap a soul before someone died, they could be left having to experience a horrible death while still in their body. He knew that if you kept a death from happening once the act had started, the soul could go bad, like an apple left too long on the counter. But what if there was another way? If Declan was being honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing or if it would work, and even if it had the potential to work, it was beyond a long shot. But he had to try. For Kurt. He didn't have any other option in his mind.

As he reached the top of the stairs, Declan saw a pool of light coming from underneath a closed door. The noises he'd heard before had ceased for the most part, but he could hear a slightly muffled sound coming from the room. He hesitated briefly, trying to decide whether to knock or to just go in. Looking at his watch, he realized he only had a few minutes, so he threw all of his chips on the table and burst into the room without warning.

When he entered, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the bed in the center of the room where a smallish teenager sat. It was definitely Blaine. Declan recognized him from the coffee shop and from a picture Kurt kept with him that he'd swiped from his house on the day of his funeral. But Blaine didn't look right. His body was leaning heavily to one side and despite the fact that a complete stranger had just burst into his bedroom, he didn't seem to register the intrusion. Declan eyed the gun sitting in his lap nervously. Guns always made him jumpy.

"Blaine?" He asked again, moving slowly around the perimeter of the room, trying to get closer to him without scaring him.

"Whoeryou?" Blaine slurred, his tongue getting in the way. He was confused about why there was someone in his room but he couldn't figure out who they were or what he should do about it.

"My name is Declan, and I…." he hesitated, not knowing if he should continue to try to reason with him or if he should just try to grab the gun. After a few moments, he decided to keep talking. "And I'm a friend of Kurt's."

"Kurt?" he asked. Despite the fact that Declan was slightly jealous of the boy and the affection that Kurt had for him, the look on Blaine's face at hearing Kurt's name nearly broke Declan.

"Yes, Kurt," He said, inching slightly closer. He stopped when he noticed the way Blaine's grip around the gun tightened. "You know he…he wouldn't want you to do this, Blaine. It would break his heart."

Blaine tried to tell the stranger that he didn't know what he was going through, how he was being tortured, but the words wouldn't form and instead, just a garbled, choked noise came out. Just then, he saw the stranger lunge at him, reaching for the gun. And then the gun went off with a loud pop and Blaine found himself thrown back on the bed, the weight of the stranger on top of him.

"Arhhh, fuck!" Declan screamed through gritted teeth as the bullet struck him in the shoulder. He'd decided to make a move for it, feeling the estimated time of death closing in on them. As he'd made contact with Blaine, the boy had lifted the gun slightly with the impact and the trigger had been pulled. The combination of being tackled and the shock of the gun going off left Declan with the opportunity to yank the gun out of Blaine's grasp. He quickly scrambled off the boy and emptied the remaining bullets in the revolver onto the floor before tucking the gun safely in his waistband. Wincing, he tried not to look at his wound as he fished around in his pocket for his cell phone. Pulling it out and keeping an eye on Blaine, who seemed to be frozen on the bed, he dialed 911 and waited for the operator to pick up.

"911, fire or emergency?" A calm sounding man asked.

"Emergency," Declan said, trying hard not to focus on the pain. "I'm at 12 Watters Bend Road and I need an ambulance. I think my friend has overdosed on something."

"Okay, son, what's your name?"

"It's George," Declan answered, growing impatient. "Are you sending someone? He doesn't look well."

"I've dispatched an ambulance, they should be there in a few minutes. Is your friend conscious?"

"Yes, but he's acting strange," Declan said. He kept his other ear trained to the window, listening for a siren.

"Okay George, what's your friend's name?"

"It's Blaine Anderson," Declan noticed that Blaine's eyes seemed to focus slightly at hearing his name spoken, but he didn't move from his horizontal position on the bed.

"Alright, just do me a favor and make sure that Blaine doesn't fall asleep," the operator said in a soothing voice. "Can you do that George?"

"Yes," Declan answered. He moved over to the bed, his left arm swinging painfully as he walked. He brought his face down closer to Blaine and watched as the boy blinked slowly.

"Blaine? Hang in there, bud, okay? Everything'll be fine," he tried to sound comforting, but the pain was getting to be overwhelming. He desperately wanted to leave so that he could fish the bullet out of his shoulder, but he knew he had to wait until the ambulance got a little bit closer.

As if on cue, Declan could hear the wail of a siren quickly approaching and at that point, he knew they were in the clear.

"George? The ambulance should be arriving on scene in just a few sec—" Declan bit his lip and pushed the end button on his phone. Now that help was almost there, he needed to get out of the house undetected. The last thing he needed was for the EMTs to show up and begin asking questions. He took the gun out of his waistband and tossed it gently on the floor, knowing that the other boy wouldn't have the wherewithal to reload the gun and make another attempt before the EMTs arrived. Before he made it to the door though, and against his better judgment, he turned around and addressed Blaine.

"Blaine," he began, leaning heavily in the doorway. "The ambulance will be here in just a few seconds, but I need to pass along a message to you. Kurt wants you to know that he loves you and will always love you, and he wants you to live a long, healthy and happy life. That's all he's ever wanted for you. He didn't have a say in his death. Don't ruin his memory by taking your own life." Declan didn't wait for an answer before turning around and hurrying quickly down the stairs. He heard banging on the front door as he rounded the corner toward the back of the house. As they burst in, Declan called out to them.

"He's upstairs in the first bedroom to the left!" He waited until he heard the EMTs moving up the stairs before finding the sliding door off the kitchen and exiting into the backyard. Jogging with his right hand bracing his left shoulder, he made his way to the front yard and spotted Kurt, who was now pacing back and forth with his arms crossed, looking much more alert and worried than he had when Declan left him.

"Declan!" Kurt shouted and began running to him when he spotted him coming around the house. "What happened? I heard a gunshot, is Blaine…?" Declan grabbed his hand and kept jogging. Kurt couldn't help but notice with a sinking feeling that Declan's hand was sticky with blood.

"Blaine's fine, he's alive," Declan panted. He let Kurt into a thick group of trees across the street from Blaine's house and collapsed on the ground. Kurt knelt beside him, looking relieved and worried at the same time. It was then that he noticed the wound in Declan's shoulder.

"Oh my God, Dec, what happened?" Kurt stuttered. Declan's eyes were squeezed shut and his brow shined with sweat.

"Long story, I'll tell you all about it in a minute, but first I need you to get this bullet out," he said as evenly as possible. He didn't think he could do it himself at this point, his hand was too shaky.

"Get it out? What do you mean get it out?"

"I mean fucking put your fingers in and dig it out, Kurt, now!" Declan didn't mean to shout at Kurt and made a note to apologize later, but he didn't know how much longer he could stand the pain. Thankfully, Kurt didn't question it anymore and proceeded to do as directed.

"Fuck…fuck!" Declan bit down on his right hand to keep from screaming anymore. He didn't want any of Blaine's neighbors coming out and finding him and Kurt sitting there in the trees. After what seemed like an eternity of digging around, Kurt was finally able to extract the bullet, pulling with it a clump of bloody skin. Declan immediately took his hand out of his mouth and applied pressure to the wound, which was already starting to heal and feel infinitely better. Kurt watched the scene in awe.

"One of the benefits of being undead," Declan explained as he leaned back slowly until he was lying on his back on the ground. "Super fast healing, assuming there's nothing hindering the wound from closing up."

Kurt looked at the bloody bullet which was still in his shaky palm. "A-are you okay now?" He asked softly, with genuine concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, taking a few deep breaths before sitting back up. "But we need to get going."

Kurt nodded and stood up, helping Declan to his feet. He desperately wanted to know what happened in that house with Blaine, but he knew it wasn't the right time to ask. He was sure Declan would explain it all later and for now, knowing that Blaine was alive and going to stay that way was enough to tide him over until Declan was ready. It was now Kurt's turn to brace Declan as they made their way slowly back into town toward their apartment.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

_One week later_

Kurt sat slumped on the couch in the apartment. He thought about calling into work again, but he really just didn't have the energy. He hadn't been back since before Blaine's name ended up on that sticky note and while Natalie seemed sympathetic to the bullshit story he'd made up about a family emergency, he had a feeling that her patience wouldn't last much longer.

He knew he was in no shape to be at work still, so he reluctantly pulled out his cellphone and began dialing the number to The Lima Bean with great effort. As he waited for Natalie to pick up, he reflected back over everything that had happened.

He and Declan had made it back to the apartment after leaving Blaine's house that night, Declan limping and wincing along the way as Kurt did his best to support him. Kurt desperately wanted to ask what happened, but he knew that whatever it was, Declan needed time to process it before he was ready to talk. All Kurt had to go on was that Declan was shot, presumably by Blaine, and that Blaine was alive.

Blaine had missed his death. Kurt didn't realize that was possible without serious consequences. It all seemed too good to be true to Kurt, and the whole way back to the apartment, he couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

Kurt didn't have time to dwell on it long though, because when they arrived to the apartment, they were greeted by Sue standing outside of their door, arms crossed and looking livid. Kurt shot a glance at Declan who immediately blanched.

"Porcelain," Sue spoke clearly with obvious anger. "Inside. Now. Declan, you're coming with me."

"Sue, ple—"

"This isn't a discussion, Porcelain," Sue was immediately standing over Kurt with her finger in his face. She was only a few inches taller than him, but in this situation, she seemed ten feet tall and Kurt felt like a mouse in her presence. "Get in that apartment right now. You are to report to Maggie's at eight sharp, tomorrow morning. Do not speak. If you understand, nod your head and go inside. You don't have another option."

Kurt gulped once before nodding his head vigorously. He shot an apologetic glance back at Declan before heading into the apartment. Kurt saw the terrified, worn out look on his face before the door slammed, presumably by Sue.

And that was the last he'd seen of Declan since. He'd tried asking Sue what happened to him and if he was coming back, but she wouldn't tell him anything. He tried to explain that everything was his fault, that Declan only stepped in because Kurt was physically incapable of performing the task, but she didn't want to hear any of it. Eventually he just stopped asking.

In the past week, he'd only been out of the apartment to go to Sue's stupid meetings each morning and evening. He'd been taken off reaping duty until further notice, and with Declan gone, that left Sue, Annabel and Laura to divide all of the reapings. Naturally, Laura was not pleased and made sure to make Kurt feel terrible about it as often as possible. Kurt had asked Sue numerous times if he could resume reapings, but she would always tell him that he could start reaping again when she could trust him again and she wasn't sure when that would be.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Kurt was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Natalie's exasperated voice on the other line. He faintly remembered her picking up after a couple of rings and issuing the standard, "Thank you for calling the Lima Bean, how may I help you?" but he must not have responded.

"Natalie? Sorry, it's Trevor."

"Hey Trevor, how are you?" Kurt's heart melted slightly at the concern in her voice. He felt like he was taking advantage of her generosity and her genuine care for him, but at the same time, he had no idea how to even begin thinking about going back to work.

"Um, not so good, Nat," he answered, his voice trembling slightly, as it had each time he'd phoned her this week. "Listen, I, um…I'm sorry but I don't think I can make my shift today."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Kurt knew it was because Natalie was taking care in phrasing what she wanted to tell him. Kurt waited patiently.

"Trevor," she began with a heavy sigh. "Whatever it is you're dealing with right now, I'm sorry. I really am, and if there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask. But I need you here tomorrow, or I'm going to have to start looking for someone to replace you. It's just too much for John and I to handle alone, you know?"

"I know," Kurt said, closing his eyes. He knew this moment would come sooner or later, and he was actually surprised it had taken so long. "I will be there tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay," Natalie said, sounding both guilty and relieved at the same time. "I'll see you then. Bye Trevor."

"Bye." Kurt ended the call and flung his phone back on the couch. It was only sitting there for about thirty seconds before it started vibrating. Kurt picked it up again and saw that he had a new text message from Sue. He opened it and read.

_Meet me at Maggie's in thirty minutes. Don't be late._

Kurt arched one eyebrow at the cryptic message and took several deep breaths before peeling himself from the couch. If he wanted to make it on time, he had to get ready to go. He was a little nervous about what was going to happen, but really, how much worse could it get? Declan was gone, his reaping duties were revoked, what else could be taken from him? He took one last long look at the bedroom, which had sat untouched since Declan's disappearance before turning around and heading out of the apartment.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Blaine sat on the plastic hospital chair, feet tucked underneath him as he stared out into the courtyard. Most of the other patients were outside smoking and despite the fact that it was a beautiful day out, Blaine had no desire to join them in the hazy patch of grass during what the hospital staff sarcastically referred to as "Outside Activity."

Sure there were one or two mental health technicians who, just a few years older than Blaine himself, would bring a volleyball or soccer ball outside during the breaks and try to encourage the patients to play, but mostly everyone just wanted to smoke. A few times, Blaine had wanted to step outside and join in, his body craving the physical activity, but it was almost as if his mind had cemented him to the chair by the window.

Ever since the week before, when he….ever since _the incident_ landed him at Lima Behavioral Health Center, every decision, from what to eat for breakfast to whether or not he should use the bathroom, was overwhelmingly difficult. The doctor he'd been assigned to here told him and his mom that his inability to make decisions was either a side effect of the depression or a side effect of the medicine they'd started him on to cure it. Blaine remembered laughing bitterly at that explanation, but stopping when he glanced over and saw the heartbreaking pain on his mother's face.

Blaine was eighteen, but he'd consented to having his mother present for his preliminary session with the doctor. Because he was technically adult, he'd been placed in the Adult Psych/Chemical Dependency ward of the hospital and there was no doubt that he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was the youngest patient there by at least fifteen years and most of the patients were either tired, old drug addicts, or people with serious psychological issues, like schizophrenia. There definitely wasn't anyone Blaine felt like he could talk to.

His doctor had promised him that if he attended three days of the classes that were offered at the facility, he could go home. He'd tried to go to one or two of the classes in the beginning, but they were a complete joke. Most of the patients would go into the meeting room and promptly fall asleep while the counselor would drone on about communication styles or anger management. Blaine had almost been excited when he saw on the schedule that every Monday and Wednesday there was a music therapy class, but was disappointed when he was handed a sheet of paper by the therapist and told to write out his feelings while she played an Enya CD.

His mom had begged him to start attending the classes when she came to visit him the night before. He knew that she wanted him home, that she missed him and felt horrible about what he had tried to do. He'd tried convincing her that it wasn't her fault, but he knew his half-hearted attempts weren't getting anywhere with her.

Truthfully, Blaine felt terrible that his mom blamed herself. Of course it wasn't her fault and he didn't feel like he'd given her any warning signs. He imagined that when she looked back over the past few weeks, she could probably call to mind a few instances when she may have felt like she should have been paying more attention, but isn't hindsight always twenty-twenty? Blaine himself had spent a large chunk of his time at the hospital trying to process everything that happened that day. Every time he thought about it, he kept coming back to the same unanswered question.

Who was that guy who'd taken the gun from him?

Blaine's mind was foggy, and stayed foggy for the most part, as the pills he'd taken wore off and the new pills he'd been prescribed began taking effect, but he knew that whoever had come into his house that night was a stranger.

A stranger who knew him. A stranger who knew Kurt. A stranger who, it seemed to Blaine, knew Kurt in death.

_He wouldn't want you to do this, Blaine. It would break his heart._

As confusing and garbled as his memories were of that night, those words were cemented within his mind. After the stranger spoke them, Blaine had almost made the decision not to follow through with his plan B, but before he could put the gun back down on his bed, the stranger had tackled him back, the action startling Blaine, and Blaine could have sworn the gun went off. Had he made up the gun shot in his confusion? For a while, he thought he had, because the stranger had disappeared after wrestling the gun away.

Blaine vaguely remembered the stranger emptying the bullets onto his bedroom floor before dropping the gun and disappearing. Within less than a minute, his bedroom was swarming with paramedics. He could hear their voices, communicating back and forth about a gun shot and blood, and at that point, Blaine knew he hadn't made up the gun shot. But when it became obvious that Blaine was not wounded and that the blood covering his shirt didn't belong to him, he tried to tell the paramedics about the stranger.

"Blaine, don't speak, kid," Blaine's tired eyes met the paramedic's. He was standing over Blaine on the bed, checking swiftly and professionally for any wounds on his body. Another paramedic was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm and yet another was sliding a mask over his face. "We need you to concentrate on taking deep breaths for us. We'll talk a bit in a few minutes, okay?"

Blaine remembered trying to nod groggily. He desperately wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, but he knew the paramedics wouldn't let him. After a few minutes, two of the paramedics helped him onto a stretcher while a third went down the stairs at the sound of Blaine's mom shouting as she came flying through the door, obviously frightened by the ambulance sitting in her driveway, lights still flashing.

The next thing Blaine remembered was waking up in the emergency room at Lima Medical Center. He vaguely remembered the psychological assessment he'd been administered by the bored, overworked and underpaid assessor. The next morning, once he'd been medically cleared, he'd been transported to the behavioral health center where he'd been ever since.

Now, a week later, he sat. No longer feeling suicidal, but no longer feeling much of anything. Earlier in the day, he'd met with his doctor, who had informed him that he was going to be released the next day, despite the fact that he hadn't attended the classes like he was supposed to. Blaine's health insurance was maxed out after a week of being at the center and unless his mom could shell out twenty-five hundred dollars a day, the doctor had no choice but to release him. The doctor urged him to make the most out of the rest of his stay, and Blaine promised he'd make an effort.

Shortly after his meeting, he was called over to the patient phone where his mom was waiting on the line to talk to him. She had faithfully called him twice a day every day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to talk to her son.

"Hello?" Blaine answered, knowing it had to be his mom, since she was the only one who had the number to the phone in the common room.

"Hey, Sweetheart," his mom greeted gently. "How are you?"

"Okay, I guess," he answered, which wasn't quite a lie. He was pretty numb to every emotion now, so 'okay' was fairly accurate, he figured. "I just got done meeting with the doctor."

"How did that go?" Blaine detected the restraint in her voice. He knew how hard it was for his mom to feel so out of control of this situation and he felt horrible (well, as horrible as he could feel, given the circumstances) about it.

"He said he was going to discharge me tomorrow. No more insurance left." Blaine explained. He had a feeling that his mom already knew all this, but he didn't want to outright assume that his doctor and his mom were in communication about Blaine out of his presence. They had had three joint sessions with the doctor since his arrival here, but surely the two spoke on the phone aside from that.

"Well, Blaine," she began, drawing in a deep breath. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to have you come home. The house has been…really quiet. Well, not really. Actually, Finn has been over here quite a bit, but it's been different not having you here."

For the first time in a week, Blaine felt the sharp pang of emotion at the sound of Finn's name. "Finn's been over? Wh-what did he say? I mean, what do you talk about?"

"We talk about you, obviously," she began, carefully. Finn had opened up to her quite a bit and she'd hesitated in their previous meetings to bring him up, but since it looked like he was going to be headed home tomorrow, she decided she needed to start preparing her son. "Blaine, honey, he told me what happened."

"Told you what happened?" Blaine asked slowly. He didn't want to assume that his and Finn's interpretations of what had happened were the same, or that when she said that Finn told her what happened, that she was even referring to the kiss.

"He told me that he kissed you a couple of weeks ago," she stated plainly, but with gentle concern still lacing her words. "And that he did it without your permission. He told me that he was so embarrassed and ashamed about doing it, that he didn't know how to approach you afterwards, so he avoided you. H-he feels guilty for…for what you did last week."

"Oh." There was so much conflicting emotion coursing through Blaine now that he was overwhelmed by the feeling of it all. After a week of not feeling anything, he didn't quite know how to handle the pain, anger, embarrassment and guilt that all seemed to be fighting for dominance in his mind.

"I gotta go, Mom."

"Blaine, wait, let's ta—"

"I gotta go, Mom, I love you. I'll call you tonight." Blaine felt bad for hanging up on his mom, but he was feeling really dizzy now, and all he wanted to do was make it back to his room without passing out or throwing up or both.

He stumbled down the short hallway to his single room and climbed into the bed. He didn't bother closing his door on the way in, since he knew a staff member would come along and open it back in a few minutes anyway. He tried to focus his thoughts on the information his mom had provided him about Finn, but as soon as he closed his eyes, he was asleep.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Kurt spent most of the walk to Maggie's with his head down, concentrating hard on the sidewalk under his feet. Even during the worst days of high school with the bullying, the name-calling, the slushies, he'd rarely felt this downtrodden. He couldn't even work up his nerves for what, under any context, should have been a completely nerve-racking experience of being summoned to an impromptu meeting with Sue. What else did he have to lose? It was the thought he kept returning to during the entire walk between his apartment and the restaurant.

The minute he stumbled into Maggie's however, his entire attitude changed, because sitting at their regular booth, next to Sue, was Declan.

And suddenly Kurt had everything to lose again.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You got everything packed up, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't turn around when he heard the familiar voice at his open doorway. He was shoving the last of his clothes into his duffel bag and trying to remember if he'd left anything in the drawer of the bedside table.

"I think so," Blaine replied, finally turning around to face Brett, the mental health technician he'd bonded with the most during his stay. Was 'bonded' the right term? They'd had a few conversations, and Blaine liked Brett because he was one of the few staff who didn't push him to attend those stupid group meetings. Earlier in the day, he'd even allowed Brett to talk him into kicking the soccer ball around a bit with minimal effort on Brett's part.

It may have been because he knew he was going home that evening, or maybe his mental state was truly improving, but Blaine was in a much better place than he was the previous day and certainly compared to a week prior. He wasn't 'fixed' by any means, if that was ever going to be possible. When his doctor asked him if he had any suicidal thoughts, he lied and said he didn't. The difference now was, even though he was thinking about it, he didn't have any intentions of acting on it ever again.

Once his head had cleared from the overdose of medications that night, he'd been angry with himself for not being successful. Now that he'd had time to process it all and now that he'd seen what just an attempt had done to his mother, he was grateful that it hadn't worked. Well, maybe grateful wasn't the right word. He was at least no longer angry that it hadn't worked, and that would have to suffice, at least for now.

After getting off the phone with his mother the morning before, Blaine had slept through lunch and dinner, waking up at seven thirty in the evening when another patient knocked on his door to let him know that his mom was on the phone for him again for their evening talk. Blaine stumbled out of bed, feeling like he'd gotten too much sleep and wondering if it meant he'd be up all night. Surely not, because the minute he mentioned that he couldn't sleep to one of the staff members, they'd be popping an Ambien down his throat.

Rubbing the stiffness out of his neck, Blaine made his way out to the patient phone, which was dangling by its spiral cord, knocking gently against the wall. Reaching down to grasp the phone, he slid down the wall until he was sitting with his knees drawn up and spoke.

"Hey Mom," he greeted, feeling like he'd just been speaking to her five minutes ago. He'd slept really hard, apparently.

"Blaine, honey," she answered. He could hear the relief in her voice as her words came out in a rush of air. "I'm so glad you answered."

Blaine's head tilted to the side, kind of like his dog Scout's did when he was confused about something. "Why wouldn't I answer?" He asked. "It's not like I left, you're my ride out of here." He chuckled slightly and heard his mother do the same.

"I thought you were mad at me," she spoke almost hesitantly, and barely whispered, "about Finn."

Blaine didn't answer for a moment. Honestly, he'd forgotten about that part of their conversation earlier, and now that he remembered, now that he'd had a decent nap, the situation didn't seem quite as drastic as it had earlier in the day.

"Oh, Mom," he finally began. "No, don't….it's fine. Really, I was just…really tired and overwhelmed earlier. It's really okay."

"Are you sure?" she asked, still sounding so nervous. Blaine didn't like his mom sounding like she was walking on broken glass around him, they'd never had that kind of relationship until the last few weeks. "I didn't want to turn him away, because he was dealing with so many….feelings, I guess, but I don't want you to feel like I'm taking his side because he's been here while you've been gone and—"

"Mom," Blaine cut her off, almost smiling at her nervousness. "There aren't any sides in this situation, I'm not mad at Finn. Maybe….maybe I was at first, but I think I was just confused about everything. I'm not mad now. I'm a little embarrassed and worried about seeing him, but we'll work through it." Blaine wasn't sure he believed the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but he hoped that he wasn't just saying it to assuage his mom's fears. He hoped that the words he spoke were true.

"Okay, well, as long as you're sure," she said. Blaine could practically hear her wringing her hands over the phone.

"I'm sure Mom," he said, allowing himself to smile fully now. Something about his nap had given him a little more clarity of mind that he hadn't had previously. For the first time in a week, he allowed himself to feel a little hopeful. "Now, about tomorrow—"

"I already spoke to your charge nurse and he said that you'd have to wait until your doctor made rounds tomorrow to be discharged…which means my plan of springing you at midnight isn't going to work." Blaine's heart warmed a bit at his mother's faux-bashful tone. He could tell she was very excited to have him home again.

"Well, it'll be alright," Blaine said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to keep his composure. "My doctor usually makes rounds pretty early, unlike some of the others, so maybe by lunch time I'll be ready to go."

"I hope so," she answered wistfully. The lilt in her voice told Blaine that there was something else she wanted to say and he waited patiently for her to spit it out. "There's one more thing, Sweetheart."

After waiting for a few seconds for her to continue, he decided she was waiting for a prompt from him, so he supplied it.

"Finn?"

"Yeah, Finn," she said, sounding both nervous and relieved, if that was possible. Relieved that he'd guessed what was on her mind, but nervous that he might react the same way he had earlier. "Tomorrow's a school holiday, and Finn want's to come with me to pick you up. He feels really awful, I think, and he just wants to see with his own eyes that you're okay. I can tell him 'no' if—"

"It's fine," Blaine said, cutting his mom off with his reassurances once again. "He can come with you. I-I'd like it, in fact." That last part just kind of came out without Blaine's permission, and though it shocked him, he realized that it was the truth. He missed Finn, and he didn't know what they were to each other anymore, if anything, but he found himself eager to figure it out.

"Alright then, I'll give him a call when we hang up," she replied. "But if you change your mind, call me back and let me know, okay? It's okay if you don't want to see him right away."

"I know," Blaine answered honestly. He knew that he held the cards in this situation, and as much as he hated the reasons behind everyone tiptoeing around him and bowing to his wishes, he at least recognized the importance of feeling in control, even over the little things, at this moment in his life.

"Anyway, Mom, I better go," he continued, slowly lifting himself off the floor. "I'm going to see if they set aside a plate from dinner for me since I slept through it."

"Oh, they did," she said quickly. Sensing the confusion in her son's silence, she explained, "I may have called the nurse's station earlier and asked them to save you something if you were still asleep at meal call."

Blaine shook his head and smiled. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Blaine spoke softly, waiting for the click on the other end before hanging up his receiver.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, the next morning, he was gathering his duffel bag and following Brett to the elevator, knowing that his mom and Finn were waiting on the top floor in the lobby. The hospital was built into the side of a hill, giving it a fortress-like feel. Having the elevator doors open at the top was almost like emerging into a new world, as a new person. Blaine braced himself for seeing Finn for the first time since more than a week prior. He'd seen his mom several times, so he wasn't as worried about seeing her. He started to panic briefly as the elevator door shut and they started their slow ascent.

"You okay, Buddy?" Brett asked with genuine concern.

"Yeah, just a bit antsy about being discharged, that's all," Blaine replied. It was kind of true, after all.

"That's completely normal," Brett assured. "You'll be fine, I promise." He flashed Blaine a smile and Blaine was more than grateful.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the elevator door slid open and Blaine spotted his mom and Finn sitting in the lobby. They had their backs to the elevator, but the wall they were facing was mirrored, so Blaine saw both their faces light up as he stepped out into the lobby. Both of them were on their feet and walking toward him immediately, his mom slightly in front of Finn.

"Blaine!" she greeted enthusiastically, all but throwing herself into his arms. He returned her hug and looked over her shoulder to Finn, who stood behind her, head down with a nervous look on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets. When she finally released her son, Mrs. Anderson stepped off to the side, allowing the two boys the opportunity to greet each other properly.

"Hey Finn," Blaine ventured carefully, when it became apparent that Finn was waiting for him to make the first move.

"Hey Blaine," Finn answered, looking like he wanted to say so much, but not knowing where to start, or what to start with. "It's….really good to see you. C-can I give you a hug?"

Blaine let out a long breath and laughed out of nervousness. "Uh, yeah….of, of course." He walked closer to Finn and held his arms out slightly from his side, feeling a little awkward since Finn hadn't moved yet. Finally, Finn stepped directly in front of Blaine and enveloped him in a gentle, yet firm hug. He held on a little longer than Blaine would have imagined considering the fragile state of their friendship, but he tried not to question it in his head.

"Alright," Mrs. Anderson spoke as the boys started to pull away. "We should get going, Blaine's probably ready to get the heck out of here." Blaine nodded and shot a small smile over at Finn who returned the gesture before all three headed out the main entrance.

Climbing into the car, Blaine tried to put his mind at ease. He knew that there was a long road ahead of him when he got home, between trying to sort things out with Finn and trying to sort out his life in general. Leaning his head back against the head rest, he tried his best to center his mind for the few minutes he was in the car before they pulled into the Anderson driveway, knowing that those few minutes would be his last private ones for the rest of the day.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kurt made his way cautiously over to the table, trying to keep his hear from bounding out of his chest. Declan was sitting there, right there, next to Sue. In one piece. Kurt tried to read the expression on his face, but Declan, who normally wore every emotion so clearly, was an enigma. He almost looked like he wasn't even there. Like he'd dropped his body off at Maggie's while his soul went elsewhere. He could see the moment when his presence registered in Declan's eyes, but it was just the tiniest flicker before it was gone. This made Kurt more nervous than anything else.

"Porcelain, have a seat," Sue gestured to the booth seat opposite her and Declan. Kurt slid in carefully, looking between her and Declan but not daring to speak yet. "As you can see, Declan is back from his little hiatus and I wanted to talk to the two of you before I released him back into the wild."

Kurt nodded slightly, training his focus on her and her alone, with great effort. He desperately didn't want to mess up what looked like his one shot to get Declan back in his life.

"First, I've instructed Declan that he's not to discuss with you where he's been or what's happened while he's been….away," she explained cryptically. "I trust that you won't make it more difficult for him to abide by this by asking him questions or nosing around for information. Am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright then," she said, as if checking that item off of her mental checklist. "Second, you're back on reaping duty, Porcelain. You're to go on your reapings alone and you are not to tamper with the deaths in any way under any circumstance. I'm not even going to threaten you with a consequence on this one because I can't think of anything that horrible. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kurt gulped again. Despite the gravity of her words, Kurt was starting to feel more relaxed. He could handle instruction and directions. These were the things he'd been good at in school.

"Third and lastly," Sue continued. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to allow the two of you to continue living with each other, because aside from this insanity involving B. Anderson, which I still don't understand by the way, I truly feel like you two are good for each other and assuming you can keep from doing this ever again, I think it would be beneficial to the entire team to allow you two to carry on as you had been. Declan has never been so punctual before in his afterlife and I attribute that to you, Porcelain."

Kurt blushed slightly at the almost-compliment.

"Are there any questions?" She asked, looking between Kurt and Declan. Both boys shook their heads silently. "Good. In that case, I'll see you both back here at seven tonight, sharp. " She slid out of the booth, throwing a ten dollar bill on the table for the meal she'd obviously enjoyed prior to Kurt's arrival.

"He's all yours, Porcelain," she yelled over her shoulder as she exited the restaurant.

Once she was gone, Kurt tentatively returned his attention to Declan.

"Hey," he said quietly, testing the waters. He was concerned that he still hadn't seen much expression in Declan's features since he'd arrived. The minute he spoke though, he saw something break through the surface of Declan's face. It looked like relief.

"Hey," Declan responded. "It's good to see you."

To Kurt, it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard. His shoulders slumped with the released weight of a week's worth of worry and uncertainty.

"I missed you so much," Kurt answered immediately, trying his best to hold back the flood of emotion that was beginning to course through him. "I was so worried I was never going to see you again."

"Me too," Declan answered honestly. "Until Sue brought me here, I wasn't sure I'd see you again either."

"Well, I'm glad we're getting another chance," Kurt said. "I'm just so sorry for whatever happened, and that you had to take the fall for everyth—"

"Don't," Declan cut him off, firmly but not unkindly. "Let's not talk about it. It's water under the bridge, okay? Let's just move on from here."

"Okay," Kurt agreed after several seconds. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to move on so quickly, but he was willing to fake it until he could, because at this point, he was willing to do just about anything Declan asked him. "What do you say we get out of here? You look a little tired."

"I'm a lot tired," Declan said with a weary smile. "I haven't had a decent sleep since….in a while." His awkward finish led Kurt to believe that whatever had happened during his week absence, it hadn't been restful, at the very least.

"Well, that settles it," Kurt said, getting up from the booth and coming over to Declan's side, offering his hand to help him up. Declan grabbed it, and both boys noticed the spark of electricity that traveled between them. Pulling Declan up into a standing position, Kurt didn't move back to allow him more room. Instead, he stood there, nose to nose with Declan before wrapping his arms tightly around him. Declan immediately returned the embrace and Kurt heard his sharp intake of breath in his ear. Neither spoke as they continued to embrace, nor did they speak when they finally broke apart and began the slow walk back to the apartment.

In the course of thirty minutes, Kurt's afterlife had taken a dramatic, emotional and unexpected turn for the better. He refused to screw this up again.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

_One week earlier_

Declan recognized Sue's form leaning against their apartment door the minute they made it to the top of the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, Declan saw Kurt shoot a glance in his direction, but all he could concentrate on was the look of pure fury in Sue's expression.

"Porcelain, inside. Now," she spoke through gritted teeth. "Declan, you're coming with me."

Kurt remained by Declan's side, either out of stupidity or misguided support for him. He wanted to tell Kurt to just do what Sue said, that he really didn't want to cross her, but before he could, Kurt was starting to speak.

"Sue ple—"

Before he could get the second word out of his mouth, Sue was on top of him. Declan stumbled slightly to the side as she pressed in close to Kurt, finger in his face.

"This isn't a discussion, Porcelain," she said, the eerie calm her voice had possessed a few seconds earlier was starting to waver. "Get in that apartment right now. You are to report to Maggie's at eight sharp, tomorrow morning. Do not speak. If you understand, nod your head and go inside. You don't have another option."

Kurt seemed to know better than to look at Declan again before responding to Sue's command with a tiny, but forceful headshake. His legs begin carrying him into the apartment but before he went in, he threw one last look back at Declan. Kurt looked scared, but there was something else written on his face. Was it guilt? Regret? Declan couldn't tell. Before he could study it much further, Sue slammed the door shut between the two boys and Declan would have bet any amount of money that this was the last time he was ever going to see Kurt Hummel.

Sue grabbed Declan by his injured shoulder and forced him back down the stairs. The wound had healed for the most part, but the pain was still there.

"I don't know what happened with the reap tonight and I don't want to know," Sue had said to him as they walked farther and farther away from the apartment. From his life. From Kurt. "All I know is that you've been summoned for a hearing before the Council. I don't know what's going to happen to you, but from all outward appearances, you screwed up big time Declan."

"I didn't have any other choice."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Sue said, gripping his shoulder even tighter, causing Declan to let out a gasp and falter slightly. "You've been doing this way too long and you know better than to mess with fate. I'm taking you to the pick-up location and I have no idea where you're going from there. It's a shame, Declan. You've always been my favorite."

Despite his fear and exhaustion, Declan somehow found the energy to feel guilty about disappointing Sue. Sure, she was tough, but he'd always looked up to her. And he knew he was her favorite. That's why letting her down was that much worse.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next week was incredibly difficult for Declan. More so than even he imagined when Sue was dragging him away from the apartment, hand digging into his shoulder where the bullet had been. It wasn't anything like what he'd expected though. He'd expected some kind of physical punishment, torture maybe. Something to counteract the fact that he'd neglected his duties in such a major way.

He'd even briefly considered that they might revoke his soul, though this thought was too terrifying to dwell on. A reaper without a soul was destined to become a graveling. Of course, there were other ways to become a graveling, but Declan had heard stories about rogue reapers before and the consequences they'd suffered. He'd always wondered if they were just urban legends, told to young reapers to scare them into performing their duties correctly, but as he'd sat before the Council day after day, he started to wonder if there was any truth to the gruesome stories.

The first few days, he was bombarded with questions, usually the same ones, over and over. They asked him why he performed the reap instead of Reaper 4711HB (Kurt, he'd determined). They asked for every detail of what happened once he entered the house. They asked him other questions, but the one they asked the most, in varying forms, was 'why'? Hadn't he heard about what happened when reapers didn't perform their duties? It could lead to a chain reaction, causing more unnecessary deaths, souls could go bad, rotting in their bodies, wreaking havoc on those around them. Not to mention the punishments for the reaper involved. Declan had tried his best not to flinch as they described the various things that could be done to him.

Throughout all the questioning, Declan stuck to his story, no matter how many times they tried to trip him up by asking the same questions worded slightly different. They tried good cop/bad cop and other mind games to try to slip him up, but Declan clung to his story with a stubborn fierceness. If they suspected that he wasn't being honest, they eventually grew tired and finally accepted his story. Declan suspected that they wanted him to throw Kurt under the bus somehow. After all, he was a new reaper, much easier to discipline and reshape. But Declan took all the blame, determined to protect Kurt.

The next few days were even worse than the first few. Declan was left in a six square foot cell in complete darkness with no food or water, no blanket or pillow, while he awaited word on his fate. He'd tried to sleep, but despite the pitch black and his exhaustion, he couldn't get his mind to slow down enough for sleep to take over. Every now and then, he called out to no one in particular. He didn't know if he was being guarded by anyone and no matter how much he groped the walls, he could never seem to find a door. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten into the cell. The whole experience of going in front of the Council and being held in confinement had a dream-like quality to it. By the third day in the cell, he was starting to wonder if he was losing his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a painfully bright light filled the room and a figure stood in front of him.

"Reaper 0014LS," the figure spoke to Declan. "Follow me, you are being summoned by the Council for judgment." Declan noticed the boredom that laced the man's voice. Was this routine to him? Did they have misbehaving reapers with questionable fates on a regular basis? Declan rose to his feet shakily, using the wall to brace himself as dizziness overwhelmed him for a few moments. After his head cleared, he nodded to the man and followed him out of the room to go hear his fate.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Reaper 0014LS, please stand," Declan immediately rose to his feet. He'd waited in his chair in front of the Council's table for several minutes before the members of the Council walked in and took their seats. He tried reading their faces as they entered the room, but their expressions were set like stone. He didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.

"After reviewing the evidence and your testimony," the head Council member continued, "we've determined that you were incredibly lucky that things worked out the way they did. You neglected to reap the soul of B. Anderson and somehow were able to prevent disintegration of his soul while simultaneously ensuring that a chain reaction involving more loss of lives did not occur. In our entire time on the Council, none of us has experienced something like this before."

Declan did his best to remain emotionless. It almost sounded like they were impressed.

"This is nothing to be proud of, Reaper 0014LS," the Council head admonished, as if able to read Declan's mind. "Everything may have worked out for the time being, but whether or not this mistake will have repercussions in the future is anyone's guess. That being said, your punishment is as follows,"

Declan drew in a deep breath. He could feel his heart slamming over and over into his ribcage. His knees were weak and despite wanting to put his hand out onto the chair by his side for support, he found himself unable to move.

"You will remain in service as a reaper for an undisclosed period of time past your original relief date. The amount of time and new date of relief is known to the Council, but in keeping with the already established rule for all reapers, this date is to remain unknown to you until the moment of your last reap. I can tell you, however, that a significant amount of time has been added on to your service period. In addition, you are to be put on probation for a period of time during which, should any other problems arise, punishment will be delivered without a hearing and will include the destruction of your soul. In other words, Reaper 0014LS, if this happens again during your probationary period, you will be reassigned as a graveling. Do you understand your punishment?"

Wait, that was it? Extra time as a reaper and probation? Declan wasn't sure he could believe what had just happened. The last week had been hell, but at the end of it all, he never would have guessed he'd get off so easily.

"Y-yes ma'am," Declan finally remembered to answer. "I understand. A-and thank you, Council members."

"You are incredibly lucky, Reaper 0014LS," the Council Head repeated. "Please follow Reaper 2277MB back to the pick-up location where your Reaper Head will be waiting to take you back to your assignment location."

Declan nodded and half-bowed to the Council members before turning on his heel and following his guide out of the room. His head felt light and he began to panic that he'd missed something in his punishment. Surely there was more to it to that. But he went over the Council Head's words at least a dozen times during the trip back to the pick-up location and it finally started to sink in that he was in fact, incredibly, _stupidly,_ lucky.

After meeting up with Sue, the guide had taken her to the side to briefly explain the procedure and punishment, telling her that she would receive official correspondence from the Council within the day. Once the guide left, Sue turned to Declan.

"I honestly never expected to see you again," she said with a small smile. "I'm still very upset with you, but I imagine you've been through enough this week. You look like you could use a hot meal."

"I'm starving," Declan admitted.

"Well, let's go grab some lunch," Sue said, guiding him with a soft hand on the small of his back, much different than her rough guidance from the week before. "I'll text Porcelain to meet us there for a lovely little reunion."

Declan's heart leapt in his chest. Throughout the whole week-long ordeal, Declan's thoughts often drifted back to Kurt. He wondered what Kurt was doing, whether he was thinking about Declan at the same time as Declan was thinking about him. He hoped that Kurt was doing alright, considering that he still had no idea what happened with Blaine, or with Declan for that matter. He hoped that Kurt wasn't feeling scared or lonely. Despite the fragile state of his own fate, Declan worried more about Kurt.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, Declan found himself being led back to his apartment by Kurt, who looked like he'd been through hell and back in the last week as well. They would have a lot to talk about in the next few days. Declan knew he couldn't discuss anything about his ordeal with the Council or the real explicit details of what happened with Blaine, but he did want to give Kurt some sort of explanation for why he did what he did.

He wanted Kurt to know that he'd done it because he loved him. Declan loved Kurt more than he'd ever loved anyone. He was willing to risk his soul to keep Kurt from experiencing the pain of losing his first love. But how could he convey that to Kurt? He certainly didn't want Kurt to return his feelings out of guilt or obligation. He didn't want Kurt to feel like he had to love Declan back because of the sacrifice he'd made. He wanted Kurt to love him for who he was. And maybe he did. Declan didn't know, but he was determined to find out.

The minute they entered the apartment, however, the exhaustion that Declan had been fighting off for a week smashed into him like a semi-truck. Stumbling over to the nearest wall, Declan propped himself up against it, unsure if he could make it to the couch, let alone the bedroom, which might as well have been a hundred miles away.

"Declan?" Kurt asked quietly. "You're exhausted, aren't you?"

Declan could feel his eyes rolling back and when he started to stumble a bit, he realized that he was falling asleep on his feet.

"Let's get you to the couch," Kurt spoke softly, throwing himself underneath Declan's right arm, using the leverage of his shoulders and back to support most of Declan's weight as he walked him over to the couch.

Declan didn't remember lying down. He was out before Kurt could tuck a pillow under his head. Kurt threw a blanket over him and lifted his neck gingerly as he slid the pillow in. He sat there for a long time, watching Declan sleep peacefully. He couldn't take his eyes off of the sleeping boy. He was beautiful. Kurt wanted to curl up with him. He wanted to rest his head on Declan's chest, he wanted to wrap his legs around Declan's. He wanted to be so close to him that all sense of personal space was lost.

It wasn't until this moment that he realized how deeply he felt for Declan. How much he meant to him, and not just because of the sacrifice that Declan made for him, but because of who Declan was and because it was obvious that Declan loved him.

Just like Kurt loved Declan.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Once they made it home, Blaine went up to his room to unpack with Finn following close behind him. They hadn't spoken much in the car, both Finn and Mrs. Anderson understood that Blaine needed a few quiet moments to readjust to the outside world after being cooped up in the basement ward of the behavioral health center for the past week. Once they'd pulled into the driveway, Blaine's mom suggested that the boys head upstairs so that Blaine could get settled in while she began cooking dinner.

"Isn't it a bit early to start cooking?" Blaine asked quietly, almost startled by his own voice after the heavy silence of the car ride home.

"Normally it would be, yes," she admitted, turning to face her son with a smile. "But I've got a lot of work to do since I'm making your favorite dinner and your favorite dessert."

A slow smile spread across Blaine's face. "Confetti chicken _and_ blueberry grunts?"

"Of course, silly, what else?" Blaine shook his head at the twinkle in his mom's eye. She must be happy to have him home if she was going to all this trouble.

"Um, what's a grunt?" Finn's confused face popped in to the conversation from the center console. "And there's not actual confetti in the chicken is there? Because that sounds kind of dangerous."

"Guess you'll just have to wait to find out," Blaine said, shooting a wink at his mom. "You are staying for dinner, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Finn answered eagerly. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"From what I understand, you've been practically living over here this past week anyway," Blaine said good-naturedly. "Taking over my responsibilities as man of the house and what not." Blaine could immediately tell by the look that washed over his mom's face that this probably wasn't the best thing to say. Finn seemed to react slightly as well.

"Blaine," Mrs. Anderson spoke quietly, either out of hurt or trying to speak carefully around her still fragile son. "I don't think right now is the best time to discuss it, but at some point we're going to have to talk about the impact this has had on our household…and on me."

"Mom," Blaine said, obviously distressed over his poor choice of words. "I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, sweetie," she cut him off. She did her best to shake off the sadness that was threatening to overtake her. She hadn't meant to bring up the issue this quickly after his release and she was ashamed to admit that she didn't know how to talk to her own son right now. She'd asked the doctor numerous times and had even read a few books in the past week about how to take care of a severely depressed child, but she still felt so loss. This was Blaine. This was her son. There had never been a time in his life when she didn't know how to talk to her own son.

"C'mon, let's get inside, I've got work to do." Unbuckling her seatbelt, she smiled at the boys once more before heading into the house.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now Blaine found himself sitting cross-legged at the head of his bed with Finn mirroring him at the foot. Blaine's unpacking of his bag consisted of him dumping all of his clothes, clean and dirty, into the hamper after determining that they all smelled like hospital. Now the two boys were sitting in awkward silence, neither really knowing where to start.

"Blaine," Finn finally spoke after clearing his throat. His voice sounded nervous and shaky to Blaine. "I wanted to tell you, I'm just….I'm really glad that you're alive."

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn't quite sure what to say. He was glad he was alive too, right? He remembered the slightest bit of fear washing over him when he'd pulled the gun out of the drawer, but as the cold metal sat in his lap that night, he was fairly certain that, had he not been interrupted by the stranger, he would have gone through with it. The whole week at the hospital had been a bit of a blur. It wasn't that he felt suicidal while there, he just hadn't felt anything at all. And now today, the first day since that horrible night that he felt clear-headed enough to have actual emotions, he wasn't even sure what those emotions were.

"Blaine?" Finn's tentative voice interrupted his thoughts. "I was kind of hoping you'd say you were glad to be alive too."

"I am," Blaine answered too quickly. Even Finn, who was usually pretty oblivious to emotions that didn't match the words that were being spoken, cocked his head a bit. "I mean, I think I am. Wait, that doesn't make much sense. I guess I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. I feel bad that I put my mom through so much pain, and that I didn't really think through what it would have done to her if I had actually killed myself." Blaine noticed how Finn flinched at the word 'killed.'

"She's not the only one," Finn spoke quietly, burning a hole in the comforter between them with his stare. "It would have destroyed me."

"Finn—"

"I feel responsible that you did this," Finn blurted out, finally raising his gaze to meet Blaine's. Blaine was slightly taken aback by the angry-looking tears that burn in Finn's eyes. "I did a horrible thing to you and then instead of trying to work it out, I just left you and ignored you when you tried to talk to me. I even knew that you wouldn't pressure me to talk about the…you know…and I still pretended like you didn't even exist. I'm an awful person and I'm just so sorry, Blaine. I'm so sorry."

"Finn, no," Blaine leaned over and placed his hand on top of Finn's, which he'd been rubbing together forcefully while he spoke. They calmed the minute Blaine's hand covered them. "It wasn't you, it had nothing to do with you. Okay, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't affected by the kiss. And as a side note, it'd really make me feel better if you referred to it what it was, a kiss. But there was so much more, there is so much more going on and I just…I didn't know how to process it all. I was feeling very alone and overwhelmed and…I thought I found a solution to the pain I was feeling."

"I'm sorry," Finn apologized again. "Can we talk about the kiss now?" The words sounded slightly foreign coming out of Finn's mouth, as if this was the first time that he'd spoken them aloud since the night it happened. Blaine briefly wondered how Finn had been able to convey what had happened to his mom without using those exact words.

"Yeah," Blaine answered. "I guess we probably should. Do you want to start, or should I?"

"I'll start," Finn seemed to jump at the opportunity. Blaine could tell that Finn had been preparing himself for this moment. "First, like I said I feel really bad that I kissed you without your permission. That's not the kind of person I am."

"I know," Blaine reassured with a nod, urging him to continue.

"And at first I thought I did it because I was feeling vulnerable or something and it could have been anyone sitting there and I would have kissed them, no matter who it was."

 _Ouch,_ Blaine thought to himself, but he patiently remained silent, waiting for Finn to get to the point.

"But the more I thought about it that week, and trust me, it's pretty much all I thought about, I realized something that kind of scared me and I think that's why I was avoiding you. I-I realized that…that I have feelings for you. Like, real feelings. And I wanted to talk to you about what I was feeling, but I didn't know where to start and I was afraid you were going to be mad at me, or think I was taking advantage of you or…I don't know what else. Then, when I finally made up my mind that I was going to do something about it, I got that phone call from your mom and….Blaine, I've never been so scared in my whole life. The thought of losing you when I was just getting to know you…I couldn't bear it."

Blaine was speechless. This wasn't what he was expecting at all. Finn couldn't possibly mean all of this, could he? Blaine could try to convince himself that Finn's words weren't sincere, but the emotion in his eyes told Blaine that Finn was dead serious.

"Please say something," Finn brought Blaine out of his thoughts for a second time since their conversation started. Finn was blushing furiously and Blaine felt bad for causing him anxiety over his silence.

"Finn, wow, it's just….it's a lot to absorb, that's all," Blaine stuttered, searching his mind for the right words. This changed everything Blaine had been planning to say. "I'm glad you told me how you feel, and I don't want you to feel bad for kissing me. You're right that you should have checked with me first, but I understand under the circumstances, and I didn't have to kiss back. Honestly, Finn, I just have a lot to think about. I like you a lot, but I'm not sure my feelings for you are romantic. Ever since….ever since we lost Kurt, you've been my best friend and it's like I've grown to need you in my life. That week when you weren't talking to me…it was torture. I missed you. And kissing you felt…it felt really nice. It felt right. But I had so much guilt afterwards. I felt like I was betraying Kurt's memory or something. This whole time too, I thought that you were disgusted by me and what had happened—"

"No—"

"But know that I know how you were feeling, I guess it changes everything." Blaine brought his gaze to meet Finn's and studied the look on the other boy's face. Finn was wearing a mixture of emotions ranging from fear to anticipation. "I just need some time to think through all this, if that's okay."

"Yeah, of course," Finn said, nodding his head vigorously. "Take all the time you need."

The two boys sat in silence for a few minutes before Finn spoke up again.

"I do have some questions, though."

"What's that?" Blaine asked nervously.

"Can you explain the grunts and confetti thing? And can I still stay for dinner?"

Finn wasn't able to keep his lopsided grin from washing over his face as Blaine reached behind him and smacked him across the face playfully with his pillow.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

_He was running. It was dark and even though he couldn't turn his head to look behind him, he knew that someone was chasing him. Underneath his feet, the ground was uneven and it seemed like every few feet, his body was launched stumbling forward as he tripped over tree roots. He was moving slowly and he desperately wanted to go faster. He knew that the thing that was chasing him would catch him if he didn't speed up, but the harder he tried, the slower he moved._

_Eventually his legs just stopped moving and he stood still. Whatever was behind him was closing in and he'd never been so scared before._

"Declan, please wake up, please."

Declan's eyes shot open as that angelic voice jolted him out of his sleep. His eyes scanned the room, both frantic and weary at the same time. Once he'd determined that he was in his apartment on the couch and safe from harm, he allowed his gaze to center back on a very worried-looking Kurt.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked, hoping and praying that Kurt was out here because he had a crisis of his own and not because Declan was yelling in his sleep or something.

"You," Kurt answered, moving forward and brushing a gentle thumb across Declan's cheekbone. When he pulled it away it was glistening. "You were having a nightmare, I think. You started mumbling something and it just got worse and worse…and then you were crying and I couldn't get you to wake up. I tried everything."

"It was just a dream, that's all," Declan tried to brush it off. In reality, he'd spent what felt like an eternity locked in this nightmare where he kept barely escaping a danger before being dragged into the next. "I'm sorry I woke you up and scared you."

"It was scary," Kurt acknowledged with a nod. "But I wasn't asleep. I-I've been in here since you fell asleep."

Blaine squinted at the wall clock. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"I know," Kurt answered sheepishly. "I've just been so worried about you, you know, since you came back. You haven't been the same."

"Kurt," Declan sighed heavily. He knew that the other boy was struggling with the little information that he'd been able to supply, both about the night with Blaine and the week that followed, but Declan had been back for three days now, and Kurt couldn't spend the rest of his afterlife staying up to watch over Declan as he sorted through all the shit he'd endured lately. "I know I've been acting a little off, but I'm fine. You have to stop worrying about me."

"No I don't," Kurt answered stubbornly. "It's my job to worry about you. We're….we're roommates, that's what roommates do."

"Kurt—"

"Okay, so maybe," Kurt cut him off. "So maybe I feel a little guilty, okay? I mean, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be going through all this. It's my fault that all this happened and that you're having nightmares every night."

"You didn't make me do anything," Declan responded, sitting up now. "It was my choice to do what I did. I'm the only one responsible for everything that happened."

"If I'd just been strong enough—"

"Blaine would be dead," Declan stated bluntly, noticing the hurt wince in Kurt's features. "And you would have never recovered."

The two boys sat in silence for a few minutes, neither quite knowing what to say next.

"Why did you take the bullet for me?" Kurt finally asked quietly. He thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Declan himself.

"Because I love you," Declan answered plainly. "I didn't want you to have to go through that. I didn't want you to have to reap the soul of the person you love the most. But mostly it was my own selfishness that made me do it. If you had to reap Blaine's soul, then I would have had to watch the person I love die all over again, and I didn't think I could handle it."

Kurt's mouth hung open in stunned silence. What could he possibly say to that? Declan was right, having to reap Blaine's soul, especially right before he committed suicide would have damaged him beyond repair. But the love he had for Blaine was different now. Now that he knew it was impossible for the two of them to be together, his love for him fell into a new, previously undiscovered category, one that Kurt didn't have the words to describe.

He would always love Blaine, no doubt about it, but the reason he so desperately wanted Blaine to live was because he wanted Blaine to be happy, to love again, even if the person to do that for him wasn't Kurt. But Kurt's feelings for Declan were different. They were new and scary and growing exponentially more intense by the day. He just didn't know how tell Declan.

"You're right," Kurt finally conceded quietly, looking deeply in the sad, tired eyes of the boy he was so confused about. "I do love Blaine with everything I have. But it's not the same as when I was alive. I want him to be happy, but I don't harbor any delusions that he and I can or should be together anymore. I went through a grieving process when I died, which sounds so weird, but it's true. That's why I wanted to work at the Lima Bean, that's why I felt like I had to keep my eye on him. I wasn't ready to let go. But these last few weeks, I've come to realize that I can't be a part of his life, even in the shadows, even as 'Trevor'. "

Kurt took a deep breath and anxiously tried to read the emotions on Declan's face before continuing shakily.

"I've been going through a lot here lately," Kurt started again, feeling kind of stupid for stating the obvious. "And I haven't always been able to put a label on how I'm feeling or what the thoughts running through my head mean. But one thing I'm sure about, because it keeps coming back to me over and over, is that I love you. When I thought that I was never going to see you again, I….I don't even know how to put into words what I was feeling. It was like, I'd just realized what I had in you, but I would never get to tell you or explore with you because you were gone and I was never going to see you again."

Kurt stopped to brush the tears from his eyes. Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like everything was hanging in the balance? Declan's unchanging facial expression didn't help much. As Kurt lowered his eyes to try to regain composure, he was surprised when he felt an urgent, yet gentle pair of lips land on his.

It was one of the greatest feelings in the world, sharing a kiss with someone you'd just declared your love to. Kurt had experienced it with Blaine, and now he was experiencing it with Declan. The two experiences were completely different though, both wonderful, but to compare the two would have cheapened both.

The kiss was long and tender. After those first few rushed seconds, both boys fell into a comfortable rhythm of exploring each other, unhurried. Kurt shifted his body closer to him, nestling himself against the other boy as his body folded into the space between Declan's legs on the couch. Kurt felt a flutter deep in the pit of his stomach and briefly contemplated whether he wanted to go all the way with Declan tonight. He quickly decided that was off the table. That wasn't what he wanted this night to be.

He just wanted to tell Declan how he felt, the best way he knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end, everyone. Thank you for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts! --cc16


End file.
